


Unfurnished Symphony

by Davechicken, UlsPi



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Historical, Asexual Relationship, Asexuality Spectrum, Background Relationships, Explicit Sexual Content, Is it possible to develop sexual attraction to musical instruments?, M/M, Sex Positive, Yes it Is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:28:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 46,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23344756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken, https://archiveofourown.org/users/UlsPi/pseuds/UlsPi
Summary: Aziraphale 'Pira' Fiore is one of the Pope's children, and resident musician at the court of Franz Joseph N of Faustria.At least, he is until the Emperor gets a new kapellmeister: Antonio Corvoli, the Florentian love-child who dreams in numbers as much as notation.And who, annoyingly, does not want to be seduced. No matter what Pira tries.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 157
Kudos: 56
Collections: Good Omens Human AUs





	1. Allegro Moderato

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: There is sexual discussion and content in this fic. If you are sex-repulsed, you will want to avoid it. If you are neutral or positive, you may well enjoy it. Caveat lector. 
> 
> With massive thanks to sani-86 who inspired this in conversation with UlsPi. Hopefully we will do your ideas justice. And who also did the most glorious art in the notes!
> 
> Also, authors are terrible and get lost in the woods. Be kind and leave crumbs of comments to remind them to come home? :)

Extract from the Fiore family history:  _ Aziraphale ‘Pira’ Fiore (so named by his fellow angels for his love of pears), seventh-born of Pope Ela X (formerly Joan). One of the ‘Blessings from God’, allowing the Pope to bear children. Educated in Vatican City until age thirteen, but chose not to join the seminary as many of his older brothers had. Studied under private tutors in Como, and was noted for his musical mastery and toured the lakes and neighbouring countries. Invited to join the court of Emperor Franz Joseph N, via elder brother Gabriel (the Emperor’s Cardinal). Is kept on a slightly more lavish allowance than his siblings.  _

_ *** _

Entry in the family tree drawn on the forsatz of the Pellegrini Bible, concerning Antonio  _ Tonino  _ Corvoli:  _ Antonio Corvoli, a bastard son of the duchess Pellegrini of Florence and unknown father. Baptised by the Pope Ela X and given the traditional name of legitimised children of the Florentinian nobility, Corvoli. Educated with the legitimate children of the duchess. Showed remarkable talent for music and mathematics. Never got along with his siblings. Sent to the university of Padua in his 12th year. Excelled in his studies. Returned to Florence aged 18, served at his mother's court. After the Giordano uprising exiled from Florence. Currently is employed by the emperor of Faustria Franz Joseph N as the kapellmeister. _

_ *** _

__

**Being the personal journal of Aziraphale Pira Fiore, one of the Pope, Ela X (otherwise known as Mummy Joan) and account of his adventures in the court of the excellent Emperor of Faustria, Franz Joseph N (who holds a decent party but needs better bed linen).**

April 5, 17th year of Franz Joseph N

Today was absolutely charming. Every day is absolutely charming, so that it is almost dull, if I am honest. I had a delicious afternoon tea with old Gabriel, and we discussed the new works that were added to the library. He still has less sense than hair, but one cannot ask for everything, I suppose. 

After that, I walked by the babbling brook, before I returned to do some tinkering in the lounge. It was reasonably successful, and the little ditty I composed was well received. After that, I received a rather interesting ovation from darling Ricardo.

We have a few new faces around the court, and the real threat is the new musician. Or, so they say. He comes well-referenced for his skill, but less so for his family tree. Not that it really matters to me, but he definitely has forgotten to bring his smile. How can one be surrounded by such beauty and culture and be so melancholic? 

I was a little too busy to make his acquaintance, and also I was a little offended that Gabriel had not informed me of the advent of a new musician. Or what his forte is. Or even his name. I shall scold him most frightfully tomorrow. 

Of course, I am not the slightest bit concerned about my own standing in court. The darling Emperor and his wife both think me the perfect angelic blessing my mother pretends I am. I don’t know how Mumsie manages to keep a straight face when she passes off her little ‘gifts from the Almighty’ as miracles, and not the result of a leg over. It’s such a ridiculously old fashioned sentiment. What on earth is wrong with enjoying oneself? If the rest of society has moved on enough, the clergy should, too. 

After all, if it is a miracle of sorts to conceive, then whoever is up above must approve, or I wouldn’t have so many siblings. I do not know how they all have turned out so differently from her, though. You would think they believed they were immaculately conceived. I am fairly sure Gabriel has never so much as had a wet dream. And because of it, everyone believes (until the last minute) that my manner is just that of an innocently warm soul. 

Well, I suppose it is. Warm, at least. Innocent less so. And more fool to those who have yet to experience the love of one of the Pope’s little angels. 

But as they all see me as the sparkling, sweet little thing, with the mind full of songs… I am sure there will be no issue with my popularity. 

Although he might be good for a night or two. He’s stringy, but he has that gorgeous deep red hair. And I usually find the flames go all the way down, and in. Maybe I will get my hands on him before everyone else does. They are always that little bit more eager when they first arrive in the palace, after all. 

Other than that, supper was delicious, and the wine plentiful.

April 12, 17th year of Franz Joseph N

Well, I have now been formally introduced to our new friend at court. He is officially the kapellmeister, which I most assuredly have my darling Gabe to blame for. Antonio - or, as I much prefer, ‘Tonino’ Corvoli from Florence. 

He speaks with traces of everywhere he has been, but he seems to wear them all as… as if they were each a lick of paint, and not… oh, how should I say it? 

The dear fellow is far too lonely, though I dare say part of that is his own doing. I am not sure if he will be quite comfortable around the excess and rules of this place, he seems to want to scratch at the edges of things. 

Ah, why am I so drawn to him? Perhaps because he came to the world of melody from such a different direction than I did. Here I am, with all my family (fake) and nothing to do but enjoy this world, and he… oh, he seems to need to beat it, perhaps? And there is fire in his belly.

He seemed surprised that I asked him for tea. The bustle is that he is clearly one to break hearts by climbing from the bed without so much as a kiss goodbye, but no matter how much I blushed and brushed his hand, he seemed immune to my charms. 

I shall simply have to try harder. It will not do for him to be miserable, it quite brings the whole mood down. I shall endeavour to lift him up. Perhaps if I were to write something for him? Would he like that, or find it an insult? 

Oh, I shall learn something, either way.

  
  


***

An excerpt from the letter by Franz Joseph N to the former duchess Pellegrini of Florence:

_ Dear, I'm glad to tell you that you darling boy has been a sensation. He's modest, polite, very clever. Half my court wants him in their Chambers and the other just hides it. He's a wonderful musician, a loyal courtier and overall a treasure. His conduct is impeccable. I hope he shags everyone he wants to.  _

_ I'm awfully sorry I can't help you with anything but gold, but you'll find a generous sum attached to this letter. I'm bound to listen to my advisors but they can't tell me how to spend my money. I want your comfort, dear duchess. I want you safe and sound, for your own sake and for the sake of your son. I'm looking after him. What a beautiful boy you've made. _

***

**Diary of Antonio** **_Tonino_ ** **Corvoli, mathematician, musician, formerly of Florence**

  
  


April 10, 17th year of Franz Joseph N.

I think it's important to admit first and foremost to myself that I am not a good musician, but I do a fine job of convincing everyone of the contrary. My technique is enviable and deceiving because of that. I have reliable memory, to say the least. I would rather like to be a mathematician but being of strategic use is not a job for a bastard, definitely not for an exile, yet showing off a bastard and an exile as a kapellmeister entertaining our good emperor seems somehow fitting. 

I'm more alright with it than it looks. I still get to calculate a lot, I take care of many people, so I'm presumably useful. 

I miss Florence. My home, my books, my garden. I miss Florence. It was different being a bastard there… I'll tell more about it when I can write  _ Florence _ without crying.

April 15, 17th year of Franz Joseph N

Aziraphale Fiore is here. How come they wanted me as their kapellmeister when Aziraphale Fiore is here? He is becoming my new Florence in that I feel both comfortable and familiarly annoyed in his company. Now,  _ he  _ is a brilliant musician. He never bothers writing down his music which my greedy mind can't help remembering. He was shocked when I told him I can write down anything he plays. He told me he just gives  _ his little songs _ away. There is beautiful irony that Aziraphale is blessed with such easy talent while I am cursed with perfect memory. His music is witty, light, but not superficial… He wrote me a  _ song _ the other day. The man pulled my soul out and used it as a key for his little composition.

May 5, 17th year of Franz Joseph N

If Pira agrees to work together, oh then I can do my calculus and solve the problems of acoustics and wages while he will write… well, I will write and he will compose his music. I'm afraid he's either too busy, too lazy or too distracted. 

May 6, 17th year of Franz Joseph N

Mathematicians nowadays serve smart monarchs, build irrigation systems and help with the navigation. Better than the accounting that mathematics used to be reduced to, but I'm torn. I want to use mathematical principles for common good out of my twisted sense of obligation, and I want to use mathematics to write the perfect music. Which brings me to Pira, as everything does these days.

Pira Fiore is one of the "little miracles" of the Pope. I want to write about him so that I can read it sometime later when he doesn't bother with me at all. He's a handsome man, bright, soft, lovely blue eyes, messy blond hair, considers wigs an abomination. One of the few things I agree with him on. He was educated somewhere far from his family and somehow he's still impossibly, stupidly kind to anyone. He seems both naive and shrewd, innocent and lascivious… no, he's not lascivious, he just enjoys what his body can bring him, be it food or carnal embraces. His most maddening trait though is his capacity for joy, for happiness. He wouldn't let anything disturb his meal or buggery. He's rather open about both but the court considers him innocent to the point of foolishnesses. He seems to like it. 

Beyond it all, he's a glorious composer. He jots arias on his fine napkins, he plays whatever has just formed in his blond head and forgets it the following moment. He's a bacchanal and he knows it. Greatness doesn't bother him, he doesn't seek to be remembered and he's so easily loved he'll always have friends. Sometimes I catch myself looking at him and trying to soak in all this happiness. I don't know how to be happy. I don't know how to be great either. I want to be remembered. Want to be the one who could find and bring forth the harmony in chaos.

***

Aziraphale looked up from his recipe book, glasses sliding down to halt near the end of his nose, reaching down to the smile that curved upwards. "Oh, my dear boy, there you are!"

Crowley looked over Aziraphale's book and was stunned to catch the other man's gaze, warm and intense, melting. Probably it had something to do with the recipe, of course. Perhaps it was something about the light and light alone. Maybe Aziraphale had just returned from one of his lovely dates that always would give him the air of absolute bliss. "Good... Time to you too, Signor Fiore."

"Oh, please. No need for formality, here. We are friends, are we not?" He tapped at the plush cushion of the bay window, gesturing for the other to join him. "Please, unless you have somewhere more pressing to be?"

Crowley glanced at the offered cushion, back at Aziraphale then he tried to look somewhere else entirely but the room was far too dark, and so he was left with either the seat or the composer. "I don't know... Aziraphale? I mean... We chatted a few times and you... Ehm... Complimented my skill, and I complimented yours... Is that enough for a friendship to be established? And as for my plans for the evening, you invited me over and I agreed, therefore it's only natural to assume I have no other place to be. Right?" He stared at Aziraphale begging for reassurance. Crowley never visited anyone. Back in Florence people visited him, and here in Vienna he didn't try to change the habit.

"Well, if I am not yet your friend, then I should like to work at it until you consider that I am," he said, his expression... softening, but almost pained for a moment around the eyes. "A man is not lessened by making friends, but improved. And so, I should like you to improve upon me..."

He held his hand out, ready to pull him down to sit. "I am very glad you chose to come. You are aware you are the dark horse here, aren't you? Not that this is the only reason I asked you here. You really do have a delicious talent, and you must show the world more of it."

Corvoli hastily sat down to avoid taking Aziraphale's hand, pink, soft, warm, it made Corvoli's red hair shift on his head as if he had been turned into Medusa. "You know, Aziraphale, I must say that every time you open your mouth, I think each and every one of your words has at least two meanings... But, speaking about horses, they are really tough on buttocks, and I don't even have much of those." Corvoli considered his own words and came to a conclusion that he appeared to have attained some double entendre. He blushed. "Anyway. I'm an exile, so I shouldn't shine even if I had any talent to do so. Also, my talent is not delicious. Nobody calls a talent delicious. Really..."

"Well, small they may be, but perfectly formed, and for that you should be grateful," he beamed, loving the excuse to talk about his companion's physique. It was, after all, very appealing. "And if it should be so harsh on you, I could always provide the cushioning, if we found a steed big enough to bear us both aloft."

And wouldn't that be lovely? Oh, yes. He tried not to look disappointed that his hand wasn't taken, placing it back in the confines of the book. "Nobody? I am nobody, then, am I? Because I very much disagree. You truly are a gift, and if you are exiled, all the more reason to found a new home for yourself. One of your own devising, where none can evict you."

"See, I can't open my own mouth without making myself look like a very drunk and very bad jester." Corvoli leaned back. The day had been long, the court had been tedious, his own thoughts had been tiring and he wanted, strangely enough, to allow his sharp bones and angles to melt under Aziraphale's fond eyes. He'd never considered himself alluring or "perfectly formed", so as far as he was concerned, he could sit any way he wanted and it would be just as ugly as any other position he might have taken. "I'm very grateful for your high opinion, Aziraphale. You are far too kind and I'm afraid, despite my observations, indeed a bit innocent. I have no right to found a home for myself. My family is in disgrace, and as one of them, I am in disgrace too."

He shouldn't, but he couldn't help himself. He leaned over, and placed a hand on one knee. Such pain! And it was all unwarranted! How was he any different to himself, except by the chance of whose hips bore him out?

"Oh, please, do not think like that. Here, you are in our Emperor's gardens. You must not let old rules - well - rule you. So what if they think of you one way? It is not about that. It is about how you live... and here, you have the freedom to do as you should wish. Build a house on the harpsichord."

His thumb pushed a little, on the inside of a knee. "The world is full of joy, ready for you to take it in. And full of joy you can give. Consider the boundary crossed, and this new world open to you. I simply cannot stand to see my friend so sad. So you must tell me: what should I do to change this?"

Corvoli lowered his eyes to look at Aziraphale's hand. That was something definitely new. He didn't like being touched, but probably because in his entire life nobody had ever touched him like this, both softly and matter-of-factly, casually. The touch angered him, but it was a peculiar sort of anger. He considered it for a moment... Arousal. It was arousal. The feeling was interesting, pleasant in a tickling, teasing way. "House on a harpsichord... I'd love that. And to be smaller than a bug so the harpsichord is like a castle..." He stood up and walked around the room. "You're a very bad host, the gourmand that you are. No wine for your new friend who you seem to care so much for?" He grinned.

"Oh! Well, I was far too enchanted by you to remember my manners, forgive me!" He put the book to one side - ribbon to mark the page and then forgotten - as he bustled over to his generous collection. 

"Wine, or spirits? I have... well, I have anything that can be had, and I enjoy it all, and I should like to know what you are particular to?" His fingers trailed over the necks of the bottles, muttering their names to himself. "Perhaps... no, too tart for this early... oh, or would this go better? What are we eating again? No..."

Corvoli felt strangely comfortable. What was it about that infuriating blond man with gentle hands? He sat back. "Do you have anything from Tuscany? Something... Earthly?.. You never mentioned we would eat." Corvoli sensed he was about to ramble. "I don't eat... Pleasantly. For pleasure, I mean. So... Wine is good."

"Whyever would I invite you, and not feed you? As lovely as your very shapely bottom is, you make me worry you shall blow away if a gust of wind catches you!" He found the right bottle, a lovely blend, and hefted the body to show him. 

"I will not be offended if you do not eat much of it, but you must at least try  _ some. _ It is - it is one of life's great pleasures, my dear Tonino!"

"If I am to be your friend, then you should remember a few things, Pira." He snatched the bottle from Aziraphale's hands and swiftly opened it. 

Corvoli tilted the bottle over two prepared glasses. "Life's pleasures are fine and lovely, but I have no interest in carnal love and my only intention when drinking is to numb several of my most detestable inclinations, which are, before you justify them to me, anger and envy. So... I know you're a great lover, I'm not exactly blind, but I'm afraid I'm not amenable to be one more guest in your no doubt soft and cozy bed. The other thing is... Unless you love me, don't ever call me Tonino." He tilted the bottle more and poured some wine into one glass. "Unless you love me truly as a friend and a colleague, don't call me Tonino." He poured some for himself and smelled it. "It's not Tuscany... No, it's not." He took a sip. "Still delicious."

Oh. That hurt. It felt like much more than just a rejection, because those happened. They did. And - and - he scooted back, cheeks a furious scarlet, eyes cast away to hold back the tears he felt would overflow if he - 

"I... see. I... I see." But he thought it was okay to call him by his family's name for him, and then reject the other? "It seems hardly fair to... maybe you do not enjoy, but..." He fussed with his cuff, and then set his jaw and lifted his head, defiantly. "I only love as a friend does. And I love as much as I want, and who I want, and I will not change that. If this offends you, then you may simply refuse any future invitations to dine with me. But you have accepted tonight, and I shall continue to be the best host I can."

Corvoli's sharp angles somewhat softened. "I didn't mean to offend... I'm not... What is expected of me. You are impossibly, temptingly beautiful, but your music is more you than your demeanour. Your music is you in the most human way. Now... Your wine and dinners and sweet kisses..." He trailed off yet again. He felt with a sudden jolt in his ribs that for the first time in his life a kiss would be so good. No. "Your music is what I can... Interact with. I appreciate your friendship, appreciate your hospitality, but even if you deny me all of it but still allow me your music, than I will be happier, more loyal, more pliant than anyone you know." Corvoli walked closer to Aziraphale and gingerly touched his elbow. "You're noble and kind and you melt me when you look at me, but when you play, then I'm transformed, then I can... Sense all those wondrous things the poets write about. This is me. Undress yourself in front of me, I will but anger you with my indifference. Play for me and I'll be your slave."

Aziraphale was going to cry, if he kept speaking like that, and he brought a handkerchief up to his face to hide it. Why! Why would he be like this? So sweet-tongued and smooth, and then so jagged and rebuffing? Why? Was he trying to play hard to get? Or did he not find him attractive? Was he not beautiful enough? They all said he was born of angelic stock, but he knew he'd fed himself into the choir of cherubim and...

"I wish for no slave," he flustered, and looked anywhere but at him. "Your honest friendship is all I desire. I am..." No. He waved the thought with the square of fine fabric, and ran to the elephant in the room, seeking safety in the bold flourishes of movement that he could decry as being artistic, and not panicked. If this was how he had to woo, it would be so. 

His hands didn't want to play at first, though. How could he convey the mix of feelings? The sheer tempest of push and pull. How he wanted to send the scoundrel away, and drag him to his chest to never let him leave again? But he wouldn't stay - wouldn't want to - wouldn't want  _ him _ ... his fingers touched the keys, and let the sweet melody ring like peeling voices over the rumble of discord below.

Corvoli followed him, serpentine, noiseless, swift and deadly somehow. 

He watched Aziraphale play, while Aziraphale couldn't even look up at him, but Corvoli didn't need it, didn't need this language, this movement. 

"There you are, angel," he whispered echoing Aziraphale's own words from earlier. "Yes, there you are. A treasure hidden in plain sight, hidden even from you..." He wasn't sure he was speaking outloud or if the music played with him, with his consciousness. "And if I can't ever hear you again, I don't want to hear, and if I can't ever see you like this, I don't want to see. This is what I studied, my philosopher's stone, my utmost goal, only I always wanted it to be me to bring such joy into the world..." 

Corvoli was lost to the music, so easily and generously given, and he wanted both to kill the man in front of him and protect him at all cost, to both run away and stay by his side, but mostly, mostly he wanted to be that blessed instrument under unwittingly clever fingers, since his own body never brought him so much happiness or pain.

It was horrific. Aziraphale was used to playing his heart, but his heart was usually light, bright, fond. Caught by this whimsy, or that. A phrase that tangled in his thoughts, the sounds of birds, the heady chase of hunting down a lover. It was positive, because his life was positive. There was no room for anything that wasn't. 

And now this - this - demon! Waltzed in and offered and refused in equal measure. Made him angry, and sympathetic, and hungry, and frustrated, and... inadequate! How could he not want him? Aziraphale was a giving, generous lover. He liked that. He liked to know he'd done well. He liked to see people happy. Liked to enjoy his body, too. It was his, after all, and so why shouldn't it feel pleasant things? 

But now, it felt almost as if he was wrong for doing it, and it was not pleasant, and he was not happy, and he couldn't look up from the keys when his fingers stilled. "...forgive me," he mumbled, sadly. "That was not very good."

Corvoli chuckled. "I'm afraid you just don't know how good you can be. All those people you take to bed and all this wonderful happy music you make... But now, now I saw you, as you were made, as you were brought into this world, lust and pain and blood and sweeping mother's love... She loves you so dearly, so fiercely, and I only saw it now. You have such capacity for love, angel, such talent for bringing that love forth and let everyone bask in it... That was very, very good. Trust a scholar, it was. It had the depth, the volume of real life, of what one seeks to feel, the completeness..." He slid onto the seat next to Aziraphale. "You know, new numbers, they were discovered through this search for completeness. One minus one equals nothing, so let us have a zero, for completeness. One minus two equals what? Let us have negative one, for completeness. Square root of negative one? Let us have i, an imaginary number, for completeness. Here," Corvoli pointed at Aziraphale's head, "lies the universe. You do not have... No, you were apparently never allowed to have any idea how wonderful, how beautiful you are. Not your thighs or arms or belly or eyes, but what makes it all shine and dance." Corvoli cupped Aziraphale's face and pulled his head toward his lips. "I wish you joy, angel, and if you wish me joy too, then play for me again. Not now, not tomorrow. Whenever you feel like it."

It was cruelty, pure and simple. Cruelty. To cause him such pain mingled with the passion, and to praise it. Did he enjoy the suffering? Was that why he kept himself alone? To allow poison into his veins, just to feel the fire follow it through as his heart beat faster? It was pain, but it was... pleasant... no. Compelling. Agonisingly, achingly compelling. 

"Why can I not have both?" he pleaded. "Why can I not be happy? My body is as much me as the rest... I do not need love. I have - I have my friends. I have my parties. Everyone else is content with my music as it is... why do you want it to hurt?"

He'd told him he didn't want him. Told him he didn't want - want that. Carnality. And here he was, tugging him closer, offering those venom-filled lips to his. He wanted to bite them, to punish them, but he ran the faintest of kisses with a slide of them to his own... before he pulled back. He would want more. So much more. 

He already wanted more. And his hands balled tight, cutting moon-curls into his soft palms. "You say you want completeness, and yet you don't want all of me. So you are as false as I am, who cannot love. Ton-- Corvoli... I cannot play for you, not and not want you."

"Who said anything about pain, angel? Pira, your body is beautiful, and you deserve every pleasure it has to offer, but my body... It offers me no pleasures and if I pleasure you I will not be complete. I will be sullen and scared and not me... However unsavoury I am, I rather like being me, and you... Only you can decide whether you want love or not, whether you feel it or not. And as for your music," a gentle, friendly, careful and considerate touch to Aziraphale's hands, "go as far as you want, but know... Oh you must know!" Corvoli pulled back and laughed happily. "When you enthrall them, when they dance to your tunes and laugh with you, you're sharing with them that very capacity for love I spoke of. You can't help being Orpheus, angel..." Suddenly Corvoli was again so very close to Aziraphale's face, "and I will never let any drunken nymph harm you. No harm will ever come to you, Pira, not on my watch." He stood up, tall, lean, awkward and glowing in the light from the candles. "It's none of my business what you choose to be. If you don't want to play, don't. I could write down what you just played and play it for the emperor tomorrow. Let that pompous arse decide. I bet he'd be... A much better person for the rest of the day. Want to try?"

"It was for you," he mumbled, dabbing at his eyes. "Not for anyone else. That... was for you. Would you play something so... personal? To the world?"

He was fine with anyone who actually knew he wasn't a prim and proper little princeling to know he enjoyed the company of his many bedmates. That was - well - there was nothing wrong with that. But this felt different, and he didn't fully understand why. 

"I do not love. Not - not as poets say. I never have. I... care very much for my friends, and... lovers. But they are companions, and - it - I am not like what the world thinks I should be, either. It is why I do not keep myself for only one. They would be as disappointed in me, as you would with me."

He wanted to touch. Even just to hold his hand. Why? Because it was pleasant to do so. Because it was nice to do so. But it was nice with others, because he knew there would be consummation, at some point. To touch but never find release? It felt... terribly unfair. And still, he wanted to. Out of some perverse need to be right, or out of some other, more complicated need? 

"May I not even kiss you?"

"I know it's for me," replied Tonino softly. "You know it's for me. Nobody else will know. Nobody else can know... I'm saying it to calm you down, not to push you into anything. You can bend the world according to your will, angel. Make people happy, make the country just." Corvoli sat back next to Pira. "Kiss me, if you want. I'm not unaffected, you know."

He was such a confusing mess. What did he want? Who was he? What did he desire, if he didn't desire? He couldn't unpick this, but he knows knew he wanted to feel those lips, and play more music, and it hurt. Why did it hurt? Just to play music, and sit with him? It HURT. 

Was this what people said, when they said they fell in love? It was horrid, and much easier just to laugh, drink, and fuck the night away. Why would he forego that, just to put his hand on this demon's face, and lean in to his lips? "You play it with me. I need to know... it isn't just me. But no one must know what it truly means. No one." 

He pushed his lips against the other's, a soft, sweet kiss with only the faintest flicker of tongue. Before he went too far, he tilted to nudge his forehead to his guest's. "If we are to play it well, we must practice, first. Do you recall enough?" He lifted his hands, taking one part of the piece, waiting for Tonino to take the other. 

It would be something, to see if others could hear what had changed.

Tonino stood up and fetched ink and paper. He jotted down the piece and silently showed it to Aziraphale, as if they hadn't kissed a moment ago. "Right, angel? I'll play anything with you. I can play anything."

Damn him. Damn him and his small, perfect ass and his ridiculous talent and... ugh. It was going to be a long night of hammering, alright. Just... on keys, instead of said ass. Okay. He could do this. 

Aziraphale  _ Pira _ Fiore cracked his knuckles, and closed his eyes, and started to play. And he didn't stop until his shoulders ached, and his calves cramped, and his heart ached, and the man who dared destroy everything was smiling as widely as he could make him smile. 

He had invited him to make him happy, after all.

  
  
  



	2. Allegro con brio

"So, angel, just as I told you," said Corvoli once they left the emperor indeed transfixed by Pira's music. "Do you see now?" They walked down the wide stairs and out of the palace. Corvoli, quite unexpectedly, helped Pira to his carriage.

Aziraphale blinked a little owlishly, then beamed as he took the offered help. 

"Didn't you feel quite... Scandalously... bare? Oh, you can never say that was me, of you?"

"I'm afraid, angel, I still feel dressed, and all my senses confirm that I am right, and before you quote Plato at me, I will not accept you quoting Plato, you hedonist. I'll see you... When?" Corvoli stood by the carriage, all sharp lines and red hair, a satisfied smirk on his lips. "And tell me how can I... Bribe you into continuing our little naughty project?"

"You mean, I cannot tempt you to ensure I get home safely?" He looked mournful and hungry, leaning out of the carriage, batting his eyelashes. 

"If you will not, then you shall simply have to call upon me, won't you? And how could I send away an ardent suitor?"

Corvoli rolled his eyes in mock frustration. "If you insist," and then he was climbing up and before Aziraphale took the next breath, Tonino was sitting in front of him, yellow eyes bright in the transparent darkness of the carriage. "Answering your earlier question, I can say that it was you, of me. If those mighty arses can't tell my music from yours, I really want them to see a doctor and check their ears." He raised his walking stick and knocked on the roof yelling "Move, for Satan's sake!"

"Couldn't you hear that it was different?" The man's hands wrung in his lap, oddly shy. He was never shy. And he forced his smile brighter to hide it. 

"You will simply have to visit me if you wish to hear more... You are as integral to the piece as the instrument is."

Hiding a giggle and a 'really, dear', he sat back, folding one knee over the other. "They do not understand music as you do, I'm afraid. I doubt even I can. You have a very... Interesting... Mind."

"So, if I understand you correctly, I am the bribe?" Corvoli felt he was decidedly lacking what exquisite food, scrumptious desserts and eager lovers could offer.

"Not the bribe. The... muse. The... catalyst. If you wish more, you must inspire me."

There was a challenge in his blue eyes, as he played delicately with a curl of pale hair.

"You're extraordinarily beautiful when you want something," remarked Corvoli. "But I want you to see that you can turn one of the most powerful people in Europe into a monarch of our dreams. You can educate, you can change, you can soothe, you can heal. Yours is the divine power, Pira. Do you want to bargain it for my angular and rather pedantic company? I think not... I'll have to..." Tonino smiled devilishly, but then his face softened, he looked older, tender and caring, somewhat fierce. "You'll have everything you might possibly want, Pira. You're delicate, generous, loving. Seems only fitting that the world should return your many gifts. It's physics, really..." He shifted in his seat, looked out of the window. "You will feed me, right?"

"And only then am I beautiful?" he teased, gently, the pout entirely false and affected and no doubt about that. 

"You see such things in me, but cannot in yourself? You do not see how I might want to spend time with your mind? And I cannot believe you think I should starve you. If you have not yet enjoyed dining in company, you have not had the right food... Or friends..."

"I said "extraordinarily", as opposed to your regular physique, which is... Well... Pira, don't try to... Talk me into... Nonsense. Or sense, for that matter." Corvoli tapped on the window. "I don't want to look at myself, so having never examined this object, I cannot say whether I deserve of something or not. Maybe it's what you can teach me, huh? Along with the good food and company?" He smiled at Aziraphale wistfully.

"You think I only value company for the body? That I only like certain types?" He reached his foot to tap toes together. 

"Although I do find you very appealing. But I... Am quiet happy to..." He shook his head. "May I not just want to spend time with you?"

"Oh, I wasn't referring to my body. I don't have much to offer. But here," he touched his head. "Here I might be a worthy... What's the word? Companion." 

The carriage stopped, Corvoli quickly rose and stepped down, unceremoniously shoving away Aziraphale's puzzled servant to offer his hand to his friend. Aziraphale was looking at him and didn't make a move. "Angel? We've arrived. You promised me food."

He took the hand after a pause, and kept it, tugging him slightly. 

"I shall feed you. And you shall entertain me. Tell me all about what you've done, what you've seen, what you've done... I must know all there is to know of my new friend."

"Sounds promising, angel. Give me my hand back, though." He tugged back.

"Shan't, I rather like it," he said, grinning wickedly and not letting go until they got to the door.

***

_ From Pira's journal _

May 10, 17th year of Franz Joseph N

I am - I am at a loss for words, which, as you know, is most unlike me. 

First, I invited Tonino - and I shall call him that, no matter how he protests - around for the evening. Now, of course I should like to entertain him in the most carnal way. I am not above admitting that I enjoy a slender body as much as a full one. Indeed, with the good food here, it is actually a rare treat to see such definition and… oh, look at me. 

Yes, I find him attractive. But - it’s - it’s not wrong to do so, is it? He seems to think it is. He was quite adamant that he would not become my bedmate, and I should have no difficulty in accepting that. I have plenty of people ready to embrace me, and to enjoy spending my time with. So what should this one rejection mean?

I do not know. Perhaps it was the vehemence with which it was given, or perhaps it was how I felt that… how I felt that I had failed, somehow. And so what if I would prefer to kiss those lips, than just to look? Does he think no more of me than my music? And think of my interest in others as… base?

I cannot tell. I cannot tell if he is a eunuch, and wishes I wouldn’t know, or if he is interested in someone else, or prefers only the feminine, or… or… It was not just rejection, it was something more. And he had me play for him, and he said such things, and he let me kiss him, but no more.

It made me quite discombobulated. Or worse. I was in some kind of fever, and all I could do was explode into sound, something of what brimmed inside. He found my agony delightful, and then insisted we share it.

All night long, until it was almost time for the dawn chorus, and we used more candles than we had any right to. His long fingers finding the spaces between my notes, and setting a fire in my chest and head. It - it was - 

How can I explain? It was like a love-affair, dancing between ivory black and white. It was… erotic. And frustrating. And glorious. And hideous, all at once. I wanted to kiss him, to show him he could enjoy himself… but he wanted only what my fingers could do to the instrument between us. 

When he left, I had to see to myself, and it was… 

He had us play before the Emperor, as if he wanted to show the world how he had made me feel. And in truth, I still do not know. Is it merely that I cannot do more than kiss, and long? Is it that, and nothing else? 

I do not know. I fear I shall go quite insane.

Gabriel will most certainly mock me for this. He has never approved of me following in our mother’s footsteps. 

I cannot say I would undo a thing, though. I cannot say I would turn back the clock and never see his face. It is torture, but of the most sublime kind. 

***

_ From Corvoli's diary _

June 30, 17th year of Franz Joseph N

The way he looks at me. Like I'm a puzzle to be solved. I rather like it. I might just be one of Fermat's theorems, jotted carelessly on the margins of a book and lacking any proof. Well, angel mine, prove me.

Our  _ arrangement  _ is going perfectly. We write together, which means I write down whatever he plays and I bring him my music, and he plays it, perfects it, gently, ever so gently, as if I could be offended by his corrections which immediately transform my not so bad music into what only Pira can do. We mix together so very well. It's still me, and yet it's him, unmistakably him.

July 5, 17th year of Franz Joseph N

We meet almost every day now. I'm not to miss a single day, I'm not to sleep as much as I want. Alright. I found myself increasingly incapable of refusing him his whims. Who would ever be able to refuse those shameless eyelashes, batting, offended at the slightest discomfort? 

Apparently Pira wants me to taste every single one of his favourite dishes, and they are all his favourite. Lovely angel. 

He touches me sometimes. I'm not entirely sure what I feel about it. 

I should get him that book he keeps gushing about. Beaumarchais. The old troublemaker. I met him once… Will write to him first thing in the morning. Pira dearly loves collecting first editions, and I dearly love the way his face lights up every time I manage to please him. Would I want to please him so, had he not agreed to work with me? Do I please him because he agreed? I can't say, but his beautiful face is… he blinds me with joy. 

***

_ From Pira's journal _

July 8, 17th year of Franz Joseph N

Tonino was nowhere to be seen today, either. It has been three days. 

It is not as if I need him. I visited with Michael and she has a new maid who does delicious things with jam. It is important that the kitchen do not learn of her, or they will steal her away and we shall never see her like again. 

There was talk of a troupe of players in the area. I am hopeful they will visit. It has been too long since I have had new theatre to watch. 

Michael’s new maid is skilled in more than just jam-making. She invited me into the pantry, and made rather a mess of my breeches. It was a satisfying sojourn, and I shall most assuredly visit more often. 

  
  


July 10, 17th year of Franz Joseph N

He brought me a book. He had been away to get it. And here was I, bemoaning how horrible he was, when he had made the trip to France to bring me a signed, first edition of Beaumarchais’ newest work. A wonderful comedy, all about a ridiculous marriage.

It was - just a gift between friends, wasn’t it? I should not read between the lines. He would never be interested. Hah, as if the son of a Pope and a bastard could wed.

The story quite inspired me, and after I finished, I could not get it out of my head. I summoned him and told him he would stay until the piece was written, and it turned out longer, and longer, until my oeuvre was an opera. 

It was absolutely not a secret message. Or a self-aware tip of the hat. It was not a lover’s gift. Does he even know that - until he left - I hadn’t taken anyone to my bed in weeks? No. Because I did not want to tell him. But then he was gone, and Michael’s maid asked, and I was an idiot and said yes.

I do not deserve love tokens. But I took it, and then I made him write with me, and I wished my life was one of Beaumarchais’ stories, and not the Greek tragedy it seems to wish to be. 

***

_ From Corvoli's diary _

July 10, 17th year of Franz Joseph N

The old tease insisted he wanted to meet me… So, either I upset my petulant friend or I upset my old and esteemed friend and fail to make it up to my petulant friend. That's the sort of intrigue I  _ love.  _

I had to travel to Paris, alright, I fled to Paris before Pira could lure me in. 

Beaumarchais' company is a treat. I can't… no, I couldn't get enough of his wit and we talked a lot about Fermat's teases of theorems. I vaguely remember scribbling something… What was it? Oh, right, it was glorious. I will have to tell Pira about it… Beaumarchais builds clocks, so I suggested that if we use the clock face instead of the number line, then we can do such things as  _ 11+5=4.  _ We do it everyday anyway! And what a way to play with elliptic equations! Clock arithmetics… oh, I like how it sounds and looks! I can make longer days for my angel, I can make shorter days for myself.

The point is… I only thought of telling Pira all about it, and as I looked at Beaumarchais' intelligent face and listened to his witticisms, I longed to see the mighty pout of my capricious friend. 

July 18, 17th year of Franz Joseph N

Pira loved the book and then made me stay in his house for eight days because he wanted to turn  _ The marriage of Figaro  _ into opera. Told me I couldn't possibly leave him until he's finished. 

The look on his face, at the book, and then at me. So long and full of longing. I might as well have turned the world upside down with a snap of my fingers. 

His unbridled joy, his happiness and most importantly, the bright, proud, defiant inspiration which he turned into the best music I have had the good fortune to hear. 

  
  


August 1, 17th year of Franz Joseph N

I was sick. Pira insisted on visiting me and brought me soup… 

It's embarrassing. It really is. He practically broke into my house and said he'd even play for me if I eat that blessed chicken soup. 

But he played for me. He played for me, that sweet, sensual, earthly man who everyone dreams of… Do I? Sometimes I do. He kisses me on the cheek every time we meet, and I feel… melted. My body, however, never tingles with desire or lust. I don't even want those kisses but if he doesn't give me one, it… stings. Is he training me? What is he doing?

Regardless, we've persuaded the emperor to perfect the taxation system and replace it with the one I authored. Pira was happy, played for me from  _ Figaro _ . I could listen to him forever and still yearn to hear anew what he played while I was eating the soup in my bed.

  
  


November 10, 17th year of Franz Joseph N

He was fucking someone when I came. Or someone was fucking him. Or… I… It… It was bound to happen and to be awkward. He got angry with me, although I didn't say a word and just walked out… He told me… Terrible things. I really don't care who he sleeps with and I couldn't think of anything else other than leaving his house immediately. He thinks I'm lacking. He said I despise him for his  _ base  _ desires. I would never despise anyone for living fully, but he didn't listen, he never does, which is natural of course. I'm there to listen to him. 

  
  


***

_ From Pira's journal _

August 1, 17th year of Franz Joseph N

He is sick and he will not allow visitors, even those bearing chicken soup. I was forced to leave it in the porch and retreat to a safe distance.

When I knew he had, I broke in via the back window. I smashed a few cups on the way, and then played for him as he ate in bed. 

I am feeling a little woozy tonight, which may have been the excitement of my small crimes, or I may have also contracted his lurgy. If so, it is better to share. Then we can both be miserable. 

I have plenty of chicken soup.

November 10, 17th year of Franz Joseph N

It is not my fault if he chooses to visit unannounced and I am already entertaining. I do not publish the calendar of when I will be… busy.

I do not even know every time I will be busy. I am a free man, and a free spirit, and I shall do with that as I will.

If he has a problem with that, then it is his own, and not mine. We are simply friends, and he has made it plain that he wishes nothing to do with what is in my pants. 

I did not arrange for this on purpose. I may have… allowed it to happen… but I did not arrange it. 

You cannot refuse someone, and deny them every other touch. Even if his words say one thing, his eyes said another. 

Why does he want me, and not? I do not understand. I will not understand! I will bed whomever I please.

***

_ From Corvoli's diary _

November 22, 17th year of Franz Joseph N

I received a letter from Sophie Germain. I'm destined to be surrounded by people of far more superior intellect, and when I defeat my envy, I bless my good fortune. Sophie has been making some advancements in the proof of Fermat's last theorem. She uses a very elegant argument to show that  _ probably  _ the theorem is true. I could eat her letter, so enticing it was, but can't eat a thing, even if the thing is Sophie's letter outlining a particular type of prime number… Because Pira is waiting for me and I'm dying to tell him everything. 

***

_ From Pira's journal _

I have not slept for more than a few hours all weekend long. 

My friend is a monster, I fear. He received some news from an old classmate, with some theorem or other, and he tried to explain it to me. 

I seem to be rather as bad a student now as I was as a schoolboy, only interested in the things which caught my fancy. His hands diced the air into sections, as if doing so he could render the world into sense. Perhaps he can, for himself. He sees things in invisible marks on the world, in balances and brackets. 

Tonino finds these things beautiful, as I find in the touch of a kiss to the inside of a wrist.

How can we be so different, and yet so… 

He spoke to me of curves and balance, of dances of digits, and as he described the world I played what he said to me. We drank. And drank. And drank. 

He told me he loved my music, and I heard something instead. I’m afraid I may have made a fool of myself and kissed him more than I should, then returned to my instrument to play out my heart again. It hurts, and I do not understand. Why does he frustrate and intrigue me so? I played until my hands hurt, and I kept going, just to keep him in my home. 

We drank, we played, he fell asleep on the couch. I would have put him in my bed if I didn’t think he would hate me for it, so I put a blanket on him and took the chair. 

In the morning, we had breakfast. He said he had to leave, but that he would be back. 

And all I can think is how to make him never leave at all.

Oh, heaven defend me. I have been quite unable to sit still or do anything of use since he left. 

What is this sickness? I need him to see. Could he even love me, if he cannot touch me? And how long can I go, without touching him? He would resent me, I am sure, or I him. I cannot help my nature, he cannot help his.

But still…

Does it have to be one, or the other? 

***

"Oh, Tonino, my dear, are you ready? I told you to be ready... do come out, my muse!"

Corvoli stepped out of his bedroom, all black and disheveled. 

"Really, Pira? Now? Five in the morning?"

"My carriage is waiting, and you can sleep as we drive there, if you wish," he said, beaming up at him. "Come, now!"

"I'm not going to sleep," Corvoli stepped back into his bedroom and began to get dressed grumbling all the while. "And I'm going to talk about equations all the bloody time, and you will regret it?" He turned to Pira, hopping as he pulled his stocking up.

"I shall find it endearing and intriguing," he declared, and walked in to pick up scarves and jackets, holding them up to decide which he liked best. "If I did not want to listen to you, I would not wake in the middle of the night, before the cock has stirred, just to take you out, would I?"

"Cock?" Corvoli stopped hopping and put his leg down. "Oh," it dawned on him. "Oh, you mean the bird, right! Yes. Don't touch my clothes, you know very well they are all the same."

A coquettish blink over his shoulder. "Why, yes. What else would I mean?" He had long ago mastered the art of looking the innocent he truly wasn't. "Perhaps I should take you shopping, to add some colour to your wardrobe. Bright as your hair and eyes are, it is a pity to argue them down with such dark tones!"

Which was when he flung himself very artfully onto the bed, on his back, clutching a jacket to his chest. "Even a single, bright, silk neckerchief... that might be wonderful, and you could wear it and think of me..."

"Pira... That's my bed. I sleep there. I sweat there. You're all... Fresh and clean and what are you doing?" He walked to the spacious chest of drawers and began searching for something there.

He rolled over onto his belly, legs bent to keep his shoes up and off. "I like the way you smell. And I am watching my friend take rather too long to go out on our lovely adventure. This bed is not soft enough... I should get them to bring you a better one..."

Corvoli finally found what he was looking for and all of the sudden collapsed on the bed next to Pira. "Alright, first, my bed is fine. Second, see?" He showed Aziraphale a scarlet scarf. "Listening to you, bought myself this... Abomination. You put it on me in your fancy style, I would just... You know... Boring. You might make me think of the wicked geometry of the knots." He handed Pira the scarf and scooted closer.

At the bright red, he beamed, and leaned over to kiss his temple in delight. "It will look delicious on you! And are you asking me to tie you down to your bed, my precious one? Because if I knot your hands above your head, you will be entirely unable to speak. You require them as much as your tongue."

But he sat, and spread his thighs, and patted between them for him to come in close enough.

"If you tie me," began Corvoli as he knelt obediently between Pira's thighs, "there will be no picnic, but I might be able to solve a few geometric puzzles, and as an Italian yourself, you must agree that it will be very cruel of you to deprive me of my hands. Seriously, don't even think of it." He sensed he was inviting trouble, but the look on Pira's face was worth it.

"If you had no hands, how would you hold mine?" he asked, brushing collar up enough, and stroking shoulders as he laid the scarf around his neck just so. "How would you play music for me? And how would I hear your thoughts, if all you could do would be moan?" 

His fingers delicately tied the knots he wanted, plumping, fussing, as he placed a chaste kiss to his temple. "You have not even asked where we shall go. Though the idea of stilling your tongue in your own bed is distracting me from my mission."

Tonino gave him a long, tender gaze. "Thank you, angel. I'm sure it's beautiful. Where are we going?"

Strong arms gripped his middle briefly, nose at his ear, before he let go. "For a picnic, by the river. It is quite beautiful there, with the flowers and the deer running by. I thought it might inspire something in us. And I thought if not, then the bottles of wine the river will chill might inspire some fine talk."

"If you say so..." Corvoli replied, infinitely tender. "Angel, would you like me to hold you? You're so excited, I hate to see you so restless. Your heart is quite the timpani now."

"You wish to hold me in your bed, after I dressed you? You do like to do things backwards, don't you..." But he smiled, and waited for him to move. "There is nothing wrong in restlessness for good reasons, but if you should like to, I would never say no."

"Angel," Corvoli cupped his hands, "I can hold you as much as you want. If you're uncomfortable doing it in bed, then I'm sorry, I'm forgetting myself... No, I'm forgetting you. Would you prefer to lie in my lap on our way? Would you like me to play with your hair? Would you like me to cuddle you after we eat? It's nothing we haven't done before, nothing that doesn't come to us naturally. What is it, my delicate Fiore, that I can do for you?"

"It does not bother me that it is your bed... I... I simply cannot work out what is too much." He nuzzled his face into one palm. "Of course I would like more. But I fear you would be offended, or think I am looking for something beyond, when you wish to... I want anything you will give me. I want your kisses, your hands, your heat between my legs..."

He sighed, and pushed hands under his jacket, seeking closer contact. "I want to know what you want, what... you will allow, and what you will enjoy. I cannot stop the fact that I desire you, but it does not mean I would... I would never seek to force you, and... and I am afraid you will feel I am. Or worry that I will. Tonino, I want all of you that you will share with me, but I fear driving you away!"

"I love you, angel, you can't drive me away," said Corvoli calmly. "Now. Picnic or cuddles? Or cuddles during the picnic? Come on, you have to decide."

"No? I don't think so... I think one day, you will find the one who you do want. And then you will..." he pulled back, shaking the thought fiercely from his head. "To the carriage. I have made this effort, and the coachman is outside, waiting. He will think you have seduced me, if we remain much longer."

"Aziraphale, I don't like it when you speak to me like that," Corvoli stood up. "There is no special someone, someone different or better than you... Whatever the fuck are you trying to do here? I'm giving you what I can give you, all of me, the way I can, and all you do is implying that there's some secret part of me I hide from you. I hide nothing from you. I don't lie to you. You insisted I visit you every day, and yet you are furious if I walk in on you with your cock in some welcoming mouth... What are you doing to me? To us?"

"If - if I was enough for you, then I would be enough!" His cheeks were red with anger, and he pulled his knees to his chest, grabbing a pillow to hold defensively in front of him. "You will find them, and you will want them, and you will leave me. And I don't want you to leave me, but you don't seem to care if I should leave you! I mean nothing to you!"

"This is insulting, Aziraphale, and you know it. I know myself. I've known myself for a long time, and for some of that time you've known me as well. You think I'm capable of betrayal? Well, that's huge. That's... Oh fuck," Corvoli growled and started sauntering around. "You are impossible, you know that? A spoilt child who's been throwing a fit about not getting a new toy! You mean nothing to me? I don't tolerate people who talk to me the way you do, who doubt and demean me the way you do, unless they mean something to me. And... And... And if you ever leave me, break out our arrangement, then..." He stopped pacing, returned to Aziraphale and looked at him defiantly. "Then I will wish you all the happiness in the world, as you deserve. You keep forgetting, my dear angel, that I deserve my happiness, and my happiness is being understood and accepted. Now, I have accepted you from the start. Are you incapable of doing the same for me? Are you?"

"Why don't you care who I fuck?" he snapped, eyes suddenly red from the effort of holding back. "You don't... you don't care. You're supposed to care. If you love me, you're..." 

The asshole who was too decent to stop him. Who let him dip his wick where he wanted, but it wasn't what he wanted. It was just meaningless, now, and every bedmate was unsatisfying, because all he could think about... "Why won't you? Why won't you make me only yours? I don't... I try to love you for who you are, but if you really loved me... why would you let me go? Why would you want me happy without you? How can that be love? You should WANT ME!" The pillow was hurled, and then he turned and started to sob into the remaining pillows, screaming his frustration into them.

The bed dipped next to him.

"Don't be a child, Aziraphale. I don't own you, we don't own each other. We trust each other to be truthful. I trust you to be truthful with me, and I'm sure as hell truthful with you. You want your lovers like you want your books and desserts. I want you like I want knowledge. I can never have enough, I can never stop learning, and it's all... Wonderful. You're wonderful. I'm happy to stay by your side, to learn with you. This is crucial to me, but it doesn't have to be equally crucial for you. Come, angel. Picnic, river, I have my red fucking scarf on."

"Well. What if I wanted you to?" he asked, still talking into the pillow, ass saluting the world. He was aware he was being petulant. Aware he was being ridiculous. But he couldn't help it, this damn man made him crazy and stupid and he just couldn't! At all! 

"I like making love, because it feels good. Or it did. And now it doesn't. And all I can think about is-- but if I tell you, you will be cross! And I do not want you to be cross, and I don't want to drive you away! Oh, Tonino, why can't you simply demand that I be yours, and then I know I am? Why do you not want me for yourself, as I want you for me? You have ruined me, and my life, and I cannot be as I was before I met you."

Corvoli chuckled, sad and tired. "I don't want to make love, angel. I know you like it, you're beautiful when you long for it and beautiful when you're all sated and pink. I never wish to take it from you..." He nudged at Aziraphale's shoulder. "Look at me, angel."

"No," he sulked. "And I don't like it any more. You ruined it. I'm not happy at all. I can't have them, and I can't have you, and you don't care that I am madly in love with you, and want you to keep me to yourself. So I am in Purgatory." And a melodramatic one, at that. "I don't want you to fuck me if you don't want to. But I don't want to fuck other people, and you SHOULD care."

"If you don't want to fuck them, don't. Angel," Corvoli softly but determinedly pushed his friend onto his side to look at him. "Don't you dare force yourself into anything. I can't give you this pleasure, but neither of us is incomplete without it. You want it, have it. I told you once... This here," he pointed at his head, "belongs to you. This here," he kissed Aziraphale's forehead, "is the world I want to explore. This here," he pointed at his heart, "is just a pump, but it beats for you."

"Why don't you want... it's..." He pushed his head into Corvoli's lap, covering his eyes and weeping. "Why can't you simply be a beast and demand me for yourself. My dick barely works properly anyway, now. It's too afraid to. What have you done to me? I was free, and I was happy. And now I am not free, and I am not taken, and I cannot be happy because you are too kind and I wish you would be crueller. You are impossible, and horrible, and you say you love me, and you believe I can love you, but you won't... why? Why won't you be angry with me for sleeping with them? Don't you care that they touch me?"

Corvoli ran his fingers through Aziraphale's hair. "My darling, silly angel... If they dare touch you without your permission, if they don't care about your pleasure, then I will hunt them down for you. If they let you tremble and flutter and forget your name, then why should I bother? I don't own you, angel... Would you like to see the doctor about your dick?" He laughed quietly.

"No. Why can't you just... Why can't you see it's yours? Even if you don't want it. Before I could have anyone I pleased, but now all I think about is you. And I fuck them hoping I can just think of you, or that I can... That you'd just forbid me, and ask me to be happy with what you can give me..."

He sniffled, looking up, his eyes begging. "Do you truly love me? If you do, why don't you need me? I... I mean... Why won't you tell me not to leave? I don't want you to be kind. I want you to want me even if it is cruel!"

"I can't do this." Corvoli said in horror. "I wouldn't treat my horse that way, and you're asking me to treat you worse than I would an animal... No, Aziraphale, I cannot and will not claim you in any way. You're my friend, my partner, I love you and cherish your freedom as much as I cherish mine. Don't ask me to... You think so lowly of yourself, and so you think I should too and should prove you right, but I think the world of you. You're beautiful, you're flawless, with all your pettiness and little annoyances, and I love you."

"So it's fine for everyone else who wants to settle, but not for me? Why? Am I not good enough for you to want forever?"

"You are good enough to die for." Corvoli replied.

"Then... why won't you?" He shoved his head back down. "Tell me I can only be yours. Tell me I'm yours, and only yours."

"You are your own, angel. I'm not taking it away from you, it's a divine gift after all, and I'm not as much of a demon as you like to tell me."

"Then I'll leave. I offered you everything. But you don't want it." What more could he do? He'd already decided he could abstain, but he needed... He needed...

He wasn't getting up. Even with the tantrum. He pushed off and back into the pillows. "I said I wouldn't... With you, or anyone, and I like to. But it's. You... I..." He couldn't cry any more, he was too drained. "I tried everything I could think of. I have nothing left to offer you. I gave you my heart, my music... I offered you my body to ignore as you wish... There is nothing left which isn't already yours."

"Well..." 

Pira could hear Corvoli was entering his mathematical mood.

"If you are mine to do as I please, then nothing would give me more pleasure than knowing you have everything you might ever need. Aziraphale, haven't you leaned yet that tempting is my job and therefore it's extremely difficult to talk me into anything?" Corvoli smiled playing with Pira's hair.

"Then say it," he begged. "Just say it. Say I'm yours, and only yours. And you are mine, and only mine. Stop torturing me. Please, Tonino, please."

"No, Pira, I will not just say anything, not to you. You're not a politician I need to trick, not a monarch I need to steer in the right way. You're my friend. We're equal, not so different and deliciously different all the same. Something Pythagoras could never grasp, the infinite complexity of simplest things."

He turned, then, fury and jealousy and pain. Grabbed the red scarf, and tugged it to choking. 

"So isn't it an equal system? Two forces, balanced? You, and me, and if I give myself to you, and you to me, the equation is still perfect? So intelligent and you can't use any of your numbers to add us together and make us greater than the sum of our parts?"

"Interestingly, this is how clock arithmetics might work..." Corvoli choked and laughed. "But this is pure mathematics, angel, not exactly practical, I'm afraid." He pulled Aziraphale's hands away prying the strong fingers from his tie. "It's a balanced system, Pira, which means that if you subtract something from one part, you should do it to the other as well. You're subtracting from me and me alone, so that I could add to yours. Doesn't work like this."

"And I'm giving nothing to you?" His hands fell. "My undying love and eternal devotion? My company, my adoration, my sole attention? I am worth so little that I am a negative number, and you think you love me?"

"I'm tired of this conversation, Aziraphale. This is all going nowhere. You don't listen to me. Also, you're not a negative number. You are Pi."

Corvoli stood up and adjusted his clothes.

"I'm giving you understanding and acceptance, and you don't give me either."

"Round. And full of stuffing," he snorted. "I would foreswear all others. I would take what shreds of affection you would give me. How am I not accepting? I don't understand what you like, but I'm trying! Perhaps you don't want to listen to what *I* am offering. I am offering to be what I can for you."

Pira rose, pulling back. "I shall go back to my own house. Where I shall entertain no one. Perhaps eventually you will wish to join me. Perhaps..." He pushed past him, fleeing.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Sempre Piu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Sexual scenes.

He ran to Aziraphale's luscious house, ran and ran and ran. He pushed away the butler and ran up the stairs screaming.

"Aziraphale! Aziraphale! Where the devil are you, you idiot? I can't find you!"

He was frantic, feverish, red hair plastered to his pale face, black cloak plastered to his equally black form, a study in negative space, an absence of life or joy.

"Aziraphale!" He wailed.

Pira rushed out of his bedroom, half-dressed of course.

"Aziraphale!"

"My dear boy, whatever is the matter?" 

Corvoli stopped in his tracks and looked at his friend.

"For fuck's sake, put your pants on!"

"Oh, you can talk rushing in like that!"

"You told me I was always welcome, that I was your friend." Corvoli sank on the floor.

"Of course you are, darling. Tell me what's happened?"

"Put your pants on first," sobbed Corvoli covering his eyes.

The emperor walked out of Aziraphale's bedroom.

"Oh fuck…" Corvoli said, catching a glimpse of the imperial arse.

"I have standards!" Retorted Aziraphale.

"Corvoli, what the hell is going on here?" The emperor demanded unperturbed.

"I'm dying here, alright?" Corvoli crawled farther into his corner, soaking wet from the rain.

"Sweet angel, I suppose we'll have to reschedule our rendezvous." The emperor said and returned to the bedroom to get dressed. He walked out a moment later, gave Aziraphale a kiss, slapped his bottom and left.

"I'm going to leave a conversation about how you allow that lecherous old fuck touch you for later," moaned Corvoli. 

Aziraphale didn't care about any of it, though. He knelt next to Tonino and touched his hair trying to remove it from his wild eyes.

"You're not wearing any pants!" wailed Corvoli again.

"And you're dying here," answered Aziraphale.

"My mother died," Corvoli wailed and wailed and wailed, until his voice was hoarse and dry.

Pira helped him to his feet and peeled the cloak and coat off of him.

Corvoli pulled away from the embrace and clutched at his hair.

"My mother died. This… this pain. It's… everywhere!" He looked up at Aziraphale and blinked. His eyelids moved like strings in ostinato. 

"Oh darling boy…" Pira pulled him back, caressed his hair, trying to hear something from that tormented skull.

"You… you write it down! Write it down! This pain, you write it down. I can't contain it, too small, too skinny."

"Tell me, my dear, I'll do anything…" 

Corvoli jumped up and began pacing around the room tearing at his hair.

"Pain… I want it outside, I want to look it in the eye and ask how dare it torture me so?" 

His frantic eyes found the pianoforte.

"I speak. You write."

"Of course." Pira fetched ink and paper and stood by the pianoforte, waiting.

"No…  _ You  _ have to write it. Who am I? I can put her death into an equation, but equations are universal and my pain is mine. Write me my pain, come on, you're the music, angel."

"Darling, tell me…"

"Alright, alright… so… start with the voices. Common time. Basses first. On A.  _ Confutatis… maledictis… _ Now, second measure, second beat,  _ maledictis…  _ you see?"

"Sure, dear boy. D sharp?"

"Second beat, on the fourth measure, on E… you got it?  _ Flammis acribus addictis… _ you got it? Now the tenors!"

"You go too fast for me, Tonino!"

"Too fast? I barely started… no… you write it. Look at me!" He growled. Pira looked up at him obediently.

"Write… me. I hurt. She loved me. Only she ever loved me. Only she saw in me what I see in you, what everyone sees in you… Look at me!"

"Tonino, I can't write  _ and  _ look…"

"No, you can. You can. Write me and my pain and her glory. Do it. Put it in front of me, let me examine it…"

"My dear, I'm sure you'd benefit from a hug…"

"Shut it, Pira! Write me my pain, take it away from me!"

"I can't possibly write a Requiem. You know me…"

"And you know me, Pira. Write it for me. You… you can feel it, right?"

Aziraphale took in Tonino's disheveled clothes and messed up hair and ridiculous angular limbs and features, all of him twisted into a knot which Tonino demanded Aziraphale to heal with music instead of a surgery.

"Do you play organ?" Tonino asked before Pira even realised he was thinking of a more befitting instrument.

"Of course I do… But it's night!"

"I'm the kapellmeister, Pira, I walk anywhere I like any time I want and if I want to play the organ at night, I bloody will. Put your pants on."

***

_ From Corvoli's diary _

January 5, 18th year of Franz Joseph N

I'll spare my future self any further embarrassment and won't recall how I ran through Vienna, how I pushed old posh Shadwell out of the way… or how I wailed and rambled like mad.

Somehow, with my mother's death and my soul torturously mute about it, I nevertheless was rather… upset to find Pira sans pants and the equally undressed emperor. It stings. Am I jealous? Can't be. Found Pira in similar circumstances too many times.

I'm losing focus, though. 

I dragged him, all white, soft and flustered to the cathedral and sat him at the organ. 

And then he played for me, and no, I should never be jealous about anything, because this man, this miracle, this angel knows and hears me even if I don't know or hear myself. He used the bit I dictated to him somewhere near the end, and of course it was much, much better than anything I could have ever written. 

How composed he was sitting there, how beautiful in his focus, his intensity. There's an order to chaos, and this order is so human in its nature, but no one embodies it as gracefully or gently as my graceful and gentle angel. Thank some higher powers for my memory, I would hate to have to write it there and then, when all I wanted and did was hopping around as if burnt by the floor. I doubt anyone who can hear or even feel the vibrations of the organ would be capable of forgetting that magic, that music. 

He saw my pain and pulled it out and showed it to me, and in the end I wasn't angry with it, no, Pira reconciled me with it, with my loss. If I have him and him alone, then I will want for nothing. Pira knows me and sees me and cares for me. He supports me. I'll be damned if I can't take care of him just as well. 

I see him too. I see what hardly anyone else does. They see a gentle, kind, funny man and lust after him. I see that gentleness, kindness and humour too, but I also see that these qualities in Pira are so much more than just words or habits or countenance. He can be a bastard, but in the end he's just so easily loving, so easily accepting. Pira may throw a fit over slightly undercooked vegetables or the thickness of a sauce, he can reduce a seasoned general into a buffoon if said general is rude, yet he's never actually angry with either his cook or that stupid rigid old goat Sandalphone.

When Pira finished, he stood up and turned to me smiling. Said he was peckish. I'm elated he stopped feeling tormented when I ask him to look somewhere he doesn't like looking.

Do I love him? Of course I do love him. I cherish him. My dear, dearest, impossible, infuriating, talented angel.

***

_ Corvoli's letter to Pira _

_ Pira, I finished writing down the score. It's perfect, and so are you. I can't thank you enough for what you did. Hope you're having a pleasant day and I wish I could beg you to stop letting our dear monarch… I'm going to be sick all over your music, and that won't do. Have a pleasant day, as I said, and I'll chase down any pleasure that seeks to avoid you. Love, etc, yours sincerely, your… How did you call me the other day at court? Equation master? Remind me. Tonino. _

_ P.S. Or did you call me the right angle when you wanted to say bastard? Well, no offense, angel, but we both are bastards.  _

_ P.P.S. I hope you're not upset about our expedition in the rain. I'm sending you some of my firewood along with the score. I'm winking and making faces at you because you're very angry with me for my simple and cheap firewood, but I cut it myself, perfectly. You can at least admire my handiwork.  _

***

February 2, 18th year of Franz Joseph N

It doesn't look good for my remaining family, especially for Bea. We never got along, it's true, but they are family… 

Let me think it through… I'm talking to my diary. Remarkable. 

The Giordano are despised, whatever promises they made to their allies, they are not acting on them, so Florence is in disarray, both the nobility and the common folk (I can't believe I just wrote that!)... Both powerful and powerless, that's better. Rome and Milano have been against the Giordano from the start. Not enough of course to help us, but still… the Pope has been helpful and took in my mother and Bea… 

Say, if Bea gets the the support of the Pope, then it will be enough to at least pressure the Giordano into honouring their promises, and once everyone figures out that Bea is the reason for such uncommonly honest behaviour, the Giordano are done for. Then Bea can return and thus ensure the well-being and protection for the rest of Pellegrini scattered around Europe… the Giordano were rather ingenious with their exiles in that they made sure each one of us was far from another, except for mother and Bea. 

I need to secure the Pope's support. 

No. No. No. I can't do this, no. 

  
  


February 3, 18th year of Franz Joseph N

I said, not doing it. 

I love him, I absolutely, stupidly love him, but I can't do this to him.

  
  


February 4, 18th year of Franz Joseph N

Bea wrote me an angry letter. They tell me they fear for their safety, now that mother is no longer there.

They weren't angry with me, for once, but it doesn't make the matters any easier. 

I can't do it, not to Pira. 

  
  


February 5, 18th year of Franz Joseph N

I will try. 

Either I lose both Pira and Bea, or I save Bea and in the end lose Pira anyway. What a gamble.

***

"Angel! Angel, are you alone?"

"Yes? What is it, dear boy?" He put down the quill and paper, looking to the direction of the voice.

"Are you wearing any pants? I'm not taking risks with you anymore!"

"Yes, though I could take them off if you wish to shave my legs?"

Corvoli finally entered the room. "Why would I do that, angel?"

"The reasons behind what you do remain ever illusive to me, at times. Am I suitably attired?"

"Don't know, you're sitting, could be anything. Or anyone... Oh, you're abstaining, right... No, you're abstaining unless there is a lecherous old fuck involved."

Aziraphale's eyes narrowed. "I offered. You said no. You cannot have it both ways, Corvoli."

"Fair enough. I apologise... Offered. You threw a fit in my bedroom, didn't take me for a picnic and refused to talk to me for two days, which I by the way, dutifully spent under your windows."

"I offered my body, heart, soul... And you told me it was an unfair diminishing of yourself. But far be it for me to use my body as you don't want it sworn to you... Tell me, did you come only to insult me?"

"No, I haven't..." Corvoli sat down sprawling over his usual sofa and rubbing his eyes. "I'm sorry to play this card, but you do remember that my mother died, don't you? You played for me just a few days ago and smiled at me afterwards, remember?"

"... What kind of monster would I be if I didn't?" Pira was hurt by the question. "Do you think so little of me?"

"No, but... Do you even hear yourself?.. No, that's not why I came. I don't want to argue with you again, you scared the shit out of me, I thought I lost you and it all comes back haunting me now, because although I haven't lost you, I lost my mother... Do you still love me?" Corvoli rose to look at Aziraphale.

"Love doesn't go away just because you disagree. I will love you until I die. Possibly beyond." The anger softened a little. "What fools are we? In love and unhappy."

"I need your help."

Aziraphale's head tilted. "What with?"

Corvoli stood up in his peculiar manner - just lifted all of his body at once and sauntered over to Aziraphale. "I'm going to kneel, and you're not going to overreact."

"... I'm... What?" Aziraphale's shoulders lifted, his body rustling.

Corvoli indeed knelt. "You don't deserve it like that..." He muttered. "I would like us to get married, if you're amenable."

"... You... you do?" His hands clasped his mouth in shock. "You... Truly?"

"Rather. Listen...I wouldn't have asked for it, but the circumstances changed... Please, angel, don't be mad at me!"

"...be mad at..." Pira's mouth fell. "This isn't for love, is it?"

"This isn't for love alone." Corvoli took Aziraphale's hands in his. "Pellegrini are very few and with my mother's death, unprotected. Your mother doesn't support the Giordano rule, along with the most of the Florentinian nobility. If I'm a part of your family, it means the Giordano will have to listen to the people of Florence more intensely. Right now what is demanded is the return of the remaining Pellegrini to Florence. I will never leave you, angel, not even for my home, but I want my remaining family to return home. I owe it to them, as I owe to you whatever it is of me you might want. I... I swear that although it might take me forever to let you fuck my brains out, I... I will do it..." He looked up at Aziraphale. "Please, don't be mad at me."

"Oh, Tonino... Don't you see? I told you, I would love you even with your pants still on." He let one hand be held, and cupped his face with the other, holding him to his gaze. 

His thumb glides over his cheekbone, his cheeks wet. "Just because I wish it, it doesn't mean... I have only wanted for you to want it, too. And... Please... I would do anything to protect you. Just do not leave me, do not reject me. Do not hate me, for I do not hate you. Tell me what you need, I cannot lose you to anything, or anyone!" Pira was crying.

"I will never leave you, you idiot. You demanded I called you mine and mine alone... I'm not doing it for the most poetic reasons, but... You are MINE, Aziraphale, so no lecherous old fucks, please, for heaven's sake."

"Then kiss me, and I agree! You foolish slide rule! Kiss me first, then tell me how you intend this new miracle!"

"If he touches you again, I will start a bloody revolution... I have no idea how people kiss." Corvoli blushed, ashamed and frustrated.

"Shut up and find out," Aziraphale begged again, pulling him by the jaw. "Put your lips against mine, and whisper that you love me."

"That's it? You make it sound very easy..." Corvoli frowned, puzzled.

"It's as easy as you want it to be. If you want to do more, you do more. But you do what feels good," Pira explained. "Would you like me to show you?"

"Oh, please do, I can't embarrass myself now. I'll save it for our wedding night."

"I will... Want to share a bed with you. But I promise, I won't do anything you do not want. Not twice, and not deliberately. Except... maybe snore."

Aziraphale pulled under his jaw, tilting his head slightly and just pressing delicate, feathery kisses to his lips. A tiny brush of tongue, but no attempt to go beyond that. It made his belly giddy, and he so very much wanted to do more, but he pulled back and checked his... Fiancé's face. 

"Was that too much?" He asked.

Corvoli suddenly looked absolutely lost, dazed. He slowly blinked. "Fuck." Tonino said. "More."

"Come to the couch. You will murder your knees like that, and I said I would take care of you." Aziraphale tried not to look too delighted with the response. He liked kissing, but he liked kissing Tonino even more than he'd thought he would.

"Ehm... Before... That. You mentioned you'd want to sleep with me... Could we... Would you mind if we start tonight? I have nightmares and... I mean... You light my days , so it's only reasonable if you light my nights. Please. Also, I'm older than you are, although not as lecherous as some, maybe you could help me up and I'm rambling apparently... Absolutely adore you," Tonino added softly.

Aziraphale's hands reached to help him, to pull him up so he could recline across his lap, and look up at him. 

"Absolutely. You should ensure that you are comfortable with me. I would have you move in at once. You would never need to work, unless you wanted to. Mumsie will adore you, and only be jealous she cannot have you, and I will do all I can to make you happy, my dearest. I have no idea how to be a good husband, especially not to you, but I will give you everything I can..."

"Angel, stop right there!" Corvoli pushed a finger against Aziraphale's lips. "Oh... This feels nice..." He curiously traced the contour of Aziraphale's lips with his fingers. "Definitely... Have you always been so... Like a bolt to the head?"

Aziraphale laughed and casually bit at Tonino's fingertip. 

"Ouch... But... Also nice. I do want to work and I want to work with you. And live with you. You promised me..." He traced Aziraphale's lips again, then leaned in and carefully pressed his lips against Aziraphale's. "Fuck... Am I supposed to, like... Crave more?"

"It will be your choice, to work, or to not. You will be free, as free as I can make you. I swear. I meant what I said. I loved no one until I met you, and I will never love anyone else."

Aziraphale pushed fingers up his neck, into his hair, playing gently. He ran their noses together, and took a longer kiss. "It's not... How can I explain? It's... Meant to make you both happy. And it's supposed to be... Oh, if only I could tell you!"

"Keep talking, angel... You can tell, you can play too..." Corvoli didn't quite know what to do with his hands, so he rested them on Aziraphale's shoulders. "Tell me... All you want to tell."

"What is there to tell? For me it was always simple... A hand in mine... But my dear heart, is it not hurtful to hear?"

Pira stroked behind an ear, gazing lovingly down, his lips warm and soft. "I... will miss some things. But I can... Handle them alone if you are not offended. I... Should like to kiss you on your lips, your cheeks. I should like to hold your hand in mine and feel my heart flutter. The comfort of your embrace, and... I wish to give you the safety of mine! It is like... A good meal. Not just good food, but filling, and in company... I know you are not immune to touch. May we... May we see which you like? I promise, the minute you do not, we stop. But even to hold you, to touch you like this... Oh, Tonino, I just wish to make you feel loved! And if that is to stroke your hair and hum my new tunes to you, it would make me so happy... It is not enjoyable to do anything if you are not!"

"This sounds... Tempting. You're a quick study, angel. Do go on." Corvoli settled against Aziraphale's side and closed his eyes.

One hand combed through the red hair, encouraged by the response. Pira used the thumb of the other, very lightly caressing and stroking. First over Tonino's brow, and then down the nose, across his lips, over the soft area of his throat below his chin. 

"All love-making should be about that: love. And others I have loved as much as any friend, and you I love much deeper. It need not involve any more than this. My hands kneading your shoulders, or washing your bright hair, or stroking yours when I hand you a cup... My beloved. You said I do not understand you. If we are to be one... May I know? May I ask?"

"Fire away, angel," replied Corvoli lazily. "Beware, though," he pushed himself up, to Pira's disappointment, "you call your music "tunes" once again, I'll do something we might both regret. Fair warning. Now, what did you want to ask?"

Aziraphale leaned down and kissed Tonino's nose, grinning. "Very well. 'Ditties' it is.... And I... Is it that you... Do not... Feel the urge, or that you are... Does it disgust you? Have... Have you ever woken up after a dream to find... Release? I will confess, it will be difficult for my body not to react to yours, but will you be... Offended? If it does, but I act on it after? Because I'm not sure I can truly stop it from... Well. Enjoying you." Aziraphale trialed off.

"Ditties won't do either." Corvoli said. "However praiseworthy your modesty is, it is a bit false when someone is as talented as you... No, I'm not changing the subject," Tonino raised his hands defensively and almost took out Aziraphale's eye. "Oh... Sorry, angel. Anyway... I'm not interested in this aspect of my body, but I must admit, I never tried anything, never wanted to try anything... I think the first time I was aroused was when you touched my knee the first time you invited me over. When you kiss me, it feels... It vibrates, tingles through my body, not every time, but it happens. I definitely want to kiss you on the lips," Tonino gently pressed his fingers to Aziraphale's mouth. "That... That was actually... As close to being pleasantly light-headed as I've ever experienced without drinking copious amounts of wine... I... I think, when I'm thinking about it now, that I would want to... Touch you, to please you. I'm not repulsed by it, but I'm... Ambivalent. I even think..." Tonino shut his eyes and took a shuddering, confused breath. "I don't want you to act on it without me. Is it awful of me to ask you to pleasure yourself while I watch?"

Oh, that was… Aziraphale nearly bounced. It wasn't revulsion. At least, it wasn't 'no'. He blushed even though he'd never been innocent since he was born, or so it felt, and hearing that...

"If it would please you, I should love to let you see how happy thoughts of you can make me. If it pleases you. I would in no way be... Able to.. if I thought you were not enjoying it in some different way to me. Of course I would wish you the same amount of pleasure as I receive, but if you... If your tastes are different, as long as I do not hurt you, I would love to see the things you like."

Aziraphale's eyes hardened. "You must tell me if you are not happy. I will not be upset. Except that I have made an error... I would want you to move me on, rather than suffer me for  _ my _ sake. Promise me this, and I shall kiss you until there is no breath left in me."

"I promise. Of course, you silly... Would you like to... Alright, I will definitely say it!" Corvoli clenched his teeth and sat up. "I want you to touch yourself, now. I'm so happy, angel, and I... I want you to touch yourself and tell me about it as you do. Tell me what.. what you feel, in your dick or in your head. Just... Tell me about it."

"You... You're sure?" Aziraphale's face is even redder, and he doesn't move until he gets the grumpy nod. He's reading Tonino's face, but sees no discomfort, and he moves to prop himself up. 

Two fingers split, and stroke over the front of his trousers, framing the half-there erection their cuddling has brought on. 

"I feel... I feel the happiness of your eyes, and the surety of your promise to me... I feel elated that you... That you will let me tell the world that you are mine... And... And I imagine you in your wedding suit, and you're happy at last...."

How did you explain arousal to someone? It was like asking how to explain anger to a person who never felt it. Aziraphale's teeth pushed into his lip, and he used the heel of his palm to rock into his lap. 

"It is... Like when a song is... In your head. It... Builds and you must f-find a way to put it into the world... But... Without an audience it... It's just a series of notes. And..." His eyes lock on his lover's, as he unfastens stays, slipping his hand inside. "... And how... When it's you... I want you to fffffeel as I... do... However... however you do, as I show you what is inside my heart. And... I OH! I feel so naked, I... Feel as though this is the first time anyone saw me, truly saw me! It's unbearable! I love you too much, it hurts!"

Tonino smiled, his usual wistful smile. He scooted closer, put his hands on the back of Aziraphale's neck and softly, softly, pulled him so that Pira's forehead rested on Tonino's shoulder. "You're doing so well for me, angel. I won't even argue with you now, see? Could you continue? Does it... Does it make you happy?"

The contact made Pira whimper and judder, his hand working faster between them, the other pushed up his back, clutching Tonino's collar. 

"You make me happy! You wanting me makes me happy! I was so afraid that who I was disgusted you... I just think of kissing you, holding you... I... It's..."

Fuck. Aziraphale's crying, but it's relief, mingled with the grief of past argument and fear. "All I want is you! My guts knot just... Thinking of your walk... I... Breathe and need to know how far I must reach to touch you... I am terrified of sending you from me, by loving you too much! Oh, I crave your kisses, your smiles, even your cross tongue! I... Think.... think of your fingers on the keys and I want to suck them! I... I can't help it! I'm sorry! I... It doesn't work unless... I haven't... Been able to... It's just ssssstopped because all I could think about was you not wanting... And... My body wouldn't... My mind and heart wouldn't let me... It was a betrayal! Oh, Tonino, please! Please let me come!"

His hand is almost a blur, the words falling out as his hips jerk into the grip. "You make me happy! But it hurts! It hurts because it's too much! I cannot hold this much love, take it from me! I need to know you feel it, too!"

Corvoli cupped Aziraphale's face and pulled back to look him in the eye. "My brilliant, beautiful angel... So sweet, so vulnerable and open, so tender. I want you to look at me when you come. Want to see you, alright? Please don't turn away from me as you come."

It was like being ripped open, and how could Aziraphale bear it? It was just his own hand, but it's months of longing and aching. Not for the hand - he'd used it plenty - but the other thing he can't explain even though he's trying. 

Damp blue eyes fixed piercingly onto Corvoli, though he knew his own face gave absolutely everything away. Aziraphale's's known, and he's confessed, and he's still wanted. He's been the absolute worst, and he's still wanted. 

Pira tried to say something more, but his mouth just snapped over air, as the wave built until he couldn't dam it back any longer. His spine curved, his call one of longing as much as release, as he spilt the weeks of self denial over his fist.

And just as he was catching his breath, Tonino's mouth found his own. He hardly knew what he was doing or even if it was remotely pleasant for his friend, but this kiss was warmer, wetter than the previous ones, and Corvoli considered never closing his mouth and just trying to sneak, slither inside that warmth. 

Tonino whimpered, trying to tug Aziraphale closer still, trying to get inside that mouth whose shape and form he knew so well. Aziraphale smiled against his lips and tilted his head a bit - and there it was, mouth to mouth, no noses on the way, teeth, quite manageable, tongues, very flexible and so tasty, Aziraphale, messy and undressed and gripping Corvoli's waist, moaning and apparently even laughing. Tonino wove his fingers through Aziraphale's curls and heard himself moaning and pressing harder against Pira.

Messy, perfect kisses. Had kisses ever been so good? All Aziraphale had done was masturbate, and yet it felt so much more. So much more charged. So much more glorious and intense. 

He took one of Tonino's hands, guiding it down, checking there was no resistance, before wrapping it around his still sensitive but softening shaft. 

"It... won't do any more," Aziraphale mumbled, when the kiss broke to breathe. "Feel what you do to me?"

It was then and there that Aziraphale for the first time recognised how very much of a scholar, of a scientist his beloved was, because Corvoli lifted his fingers with Pira's seed on them, to his eyes and looked at it, unashamed curiousity clear on his face. He sniffed it, glanced up at Aziraphale, coyly and questioning, and licked his fingertips. "Hm... Interesting..." He licked some more, rolled it over his tongue, closed his eyes to concentrate on the taste alone. "I'm not much of a gourmand, as you know... Definitely contains salt... Alkali, must be alkali. But smells sweet. Most peculiar... Oh, right, it does contain sugars, silly me... You ever tasted it? You put all sorts of things in your mouth."

"I have," Pira agreed, with a fond smile. "But never from your lips. Paint them, and I'll clean you?"

"You, my brilliant glutton!" Corvoli obligingly smeared his lips with Aziraphale's spend. "And what if it doesn't go well with..."

"It's my happiness, and your smile, of course they go together," he teased, and licked and nibbled at his lips with a very, very pleased noise. "You didn't hate that?"

"What, your taste? No, I didn't. It's not as good as wine or apples, but... Not that bad when you get used to it." Tonino winked. "What shall we do now, angel? I'm afraid I'm quite involved in this..." He pensively bit at Aziraphale's lip. "Study."

"Is it alright if, having cleaned up, we see where you like to be touched? With no need for it to be anything other than touch?"

"Touch is a vague concept, angel... Yes, I want to try. I do. Shall I undress?" Corvoli asked it with so little feeling, Aziraphale would have been offended, had he not known him so well.

"May I undress you?" Pira pushed at his hair, smiling fondly. "Perhaps the bed has more room to maneuver? I have nowhere to be but with you, all day long."

"Neither do I. I planned to be rejected and sulk all day long. So... Have a go." Tonino gestured at himself.

Pira decided, instead, to rise up and scoop the older man into his arms. "First I shall lay you down, so that I may catalogue your every inch properly. After all, we must be rigorous in the field of scientific study."

"Oh... Well... Absolutely. Scientific, yeah... Alright, have a go, you... Sensual angel." Corvoli looked ashamed and determined.

Pira nuzzled noses together, and carefully took him to the bedroom to lay him down. "Would it be better if I undress first, or second, or not at all? Or should I stop asking things, and you simply request if I need to adjust my plans?"

"Ehm..." Tonino looked around, dazzled, then looked at his own crotch. "Why am I all... Tense down there?"

"Have you never felt that before?" Aziraphale knelt down at the edge of the bed, beneath Tonino, and stroked his hands over Tonino's calves, his thighs. "Does it feel good to you?"

"It feels... Weird. New. A bit wet... Should it be wet? And like... I think... I think I need your face a bit closer to mine or I'll combust? What a mess that would be... Angel, what's happening to me?" Corvoli searched Aziraphale's eyes, scared and vulnerable.

"Blood flows to the area, increasing the sensitivity, making your body react. And your limbic system is firing, and your body releasing hormones..." 

Pira crawled up, leaving his own cock free from clothing, and arranged their legs so each straddled a thigh, and rested on his elbows so he was within kissing distance. "It's perfectly normal. It can be very intense. If it becomes too much, we slow down. It can be nice to coast along, or do things fast, but for you... I want you to remember only that you are loved, and that you bring me so much joy that a whole empire of bodies hold no sway from you."

"That's very flattering. You promised to undress me. I'd hate to have people wash my sorry remains off of my clothes, Pira. Am I dying?" Corvoli was visibly distressed and lost and despite it all, as always, impeccably curious.

"It's called the 'little death', but you'll recover... You must tell me if you wish me to stop, my dearest mathematician..." 

Pira plucked at Tonino's collar, baring his throat, kissing the skin he revealed. "Stop me, my brave heart, should you want me to stop. I do not wish to harm you."

Corvoli took a deep, steadying breath. "Alright... I'm dying, a little. I want to be naked, I want you to hold me and I want you to try and contain it, which means... Let me think... Touch my fucking appendage and assure me I won't die. I don't want to die now, I really don't."

"You will not die, am I not Orpheus? I shall not turn back, but I will lead you back to my bed, and kiss your lips, and keep you safe."

It is a little alarming, to feel the mix of need and distress, but Pira wants to show him what his body can do. If they never try, they will never know. He sits back enough to remove Tonino's shirt, his hands gliding over pale skin. "You are so beautiful, I could weep. If I could sculpt, I would render such visions of you, and keep them only to myself." 

Down to Tonino's pants, echoing the starting touches from before, fingers parting then palming his groin, giving him a moment to adjust before reaching for the belt. "We shall have such a wedding as no one ever saw, and the choirs shall sing out the music you put into me..."

Corvoli moaned and thrashed over Pira's luxurious pillows. "I'm scared, angel... I never wanted anyone to protect me, but... Oh fuck, I'm scared and it feels so good... Please... Fuck. Please, don't leave me now. I know it's not how it's supposed to be," Corvoli gripped at Aziraphale's middle section and raised his wet, begging face closer to Aziraphale. "Don't make me face it alone. I... I love you, angel, I'd die for you, but it's so scary... Will you hold me? Will you hold me and shield me? I don't know what it is, I want... I want you closer, impossibly so... Pira, please, don't leave me..." He tossed and turned and wailed, hopeless and lost and unaware of his own body.

"I shall never leave you, never leave your side! I swear to you, I swear on our mothers, I swear on the surety of algebra, and on the sounds and feel of music in your heart! You are mine, my darling, and anything which wishes to hurt you must first destroy me!"

Aziraphale cradled Corvoli's neck as he rapidly threw off their remaining clothes, then tangled their legs to keep him still enough to take him in hand and start to stroke him, root to tip. "Look at me, look at me, take your strength from me, as I do you. You are beloved, just as you are. You are adored, precious, my heart."

"I'm scared," Corvoli choked. "I'm scared... If I'm... It's just like one of your oysters, Pira. I open up and you devour me... I want you, want you near, want you close, and then... What if I don't survive? Will you hold me? Will you whisper sweet nothings to me? Or will you sprinkle me with acid and wait until I... I... Scream away? Fuck! Hold me, please, hold me tight, I can't bear it... I love you so fucking much and I can't bear it..." Tonino sobbed and tried to hide his face on Aziraphale's round soft shoulder. "Please... will it hurt? Will it kill me? Will you leave me when you see me like that?"

"I will never leave you! It will not hurt, only feel so good you fear it may! I have loved you sneezing and crying, I shall never be turned away, not even if you try!" Aziraphale kissed along his ear, and ran his thumb over the tip, twisting, trying every trick he knew to guide Tonino's body through the sensations. "It's okay if you want to scream. To hit me. To do anything you need. You are everything. Do not be afraid. I will hold you until the stars burn out and beyond..."

"I... Am... Everything? Me?" Corvoli looked in disbelief, stared at Aziraphale, and then his face softened again. "I'm fucked, am I not? Tell me what to do... Tell me you'll love me all the same... Tell me! Tell me! I can't let go, I'm afraid... I'm afraid, angel... Thought you loved me... You, beautiful and generous and... I can't bear it! Will you indeed still love me?" Corvoli's head arched back, tears in his eyes. "Who would want me like that? I wouldn't want myself like that, weak and of no use to you... When you play for me, I'm... But not like this, not like this... Will you bother with me at all? Will you... This... I'm not like your lovers, I'm not experienced, not... Fuck!" He yelled, his fingers digging into Aziraphale's shoulders. "What would I be, Pira? What would I be on the other side? Will I still be able to protect you and... Pira!"

"You will be my Tonino, you will be who you are, but you will have given me something so precious as to be cherished forever!" 

Pira was getting hard again, somehow. He grabbed Tonino's hand, pushed it down, wrapped it around his own cock. "Feel! Feel what you make me feel! If you can still love me, in all my mess, in all my need, then how can I not love you? Who gives me everything, even though he is terrified? Who gives me the most precious gift of himself? Come with me, love! I want you, only you, only you can make me feel this way!"

Corvoli screamed and grasped at Aziraphale desperately. "Yes... everything... Anything you want..." He yelled again, gripped Aziraphale's head to look straight at him. "Look at me..." He arched back again and came, breathing hard, crying.

It was intense, intense and almost painful. Both the stimulus on his tortured flesh, and the empathy for his crazy eyed lover. 

Pira had given many climaxes to many people, but none had ever felt so... Deep? Charged? Agonisingly perfect? He called out Corvoli's name, Aziraphale's own release much less volumatic, but no less rich. 

And then Pura kissed Tonino, forcing his tongue inside, fucking his mouth to take away the pounding in his chest. It didn't work, and he desperately wrapped his arms around him, cuddling him and smothering him, crying into his cheek and babbling nonsense 'love yous' as the aftershocks faded.

"Angel... Angel did you just come with me? If you did, this is the only harmony I'm going to strive for from this moment on. If you didn't , then didn't tell me that..." Corvoli laughed, or at least he tried to. "Hold me. It was terrible. I mean, terrific. But... Fuck, Aziraphale, I... Was one with you for a moment there."

"I did... I did... You gave me such pleasure, but I know hurt you, it hurt me... But it was so good, so..." 

Pira knotted their legs together, rocking bodily against him, nose in his hair, shaking with the adrenaline come down. "That was like... Nothing I've ever.. oh, my love, that was... That was... I've never felt this way..."

"Good... Brilliant... As your husband I must... Stand out, don't you agree?" Corvoli leaned up to kiss Aziraphale. "I'm dead."

"Don't be so melodramatic! You are not my husband yet, so you are not allowed to die! You must simply live to pleasure me." Aziraphale chuckled, and stroked down Tonino's side. "I am happy to do that again. If you feel you want to. But if you never do... Thank you. For giving me such a precious part of you."

"Taste me," asked Corvoli meekly. "Taste me. Tell me... No, this is what you asked of me, but still... Tell me you want me." He blushed and fell back into the pillows. "I love you, angel. Tell me I'm better than all your lovers. Tell me! Aziraphale, you were so vulnerable with me, and I couldn't grasp it. Tell me... Tell me you love me still." He begged, trying to grasp, trying to grab as much of Aziraphale as he could.

"I would never leave this bed, not for any of them. They may have touched my body, but you have touched my heart and soul..." 

Pira lifted his hand, licking the salty release before offering his fingers. "The most exquisite gift, the rarest delicacy. I shall never be able to find anything that pleases my palate more."

He rolled onto his back, tugging the mess of limbs on top of him. "Could you not feel how very much I do love you?"

"If there is a special sense for it, then no, I don't feel anything new, other than being a bit dead..." Tonino nipped at Aziraphale's earlobe. "I want more, though... I think. I really don't know what I'm asking for. I love you." He nuzzled Aziraphale's neck and stilled there.

"Well, then. Maybe if it killed you, then again will reverse it, switch your state back, or it will give you natural immunity to death by Pira..." 

Aziraphale's hands ran down his spine, and gripped his rear, pulling him against his lap. "I can show you my mouth, you may like that. And you have my hands. My legs. If you wish, we can do other things, but really... Even your smile is better than anything I could ever need, and still I need it and more, each day."

Corvoli looked at Aziraphale quizzically. "You mean... No... " He shook his head and ran their noses together making Pira laugh while Tonino remained entirely serious. "Fuck me." Corvoli asked. "I want you in. I mean... I want you inside. Please."

"... You just made me come twice! You... Do you even mean that? My love... I want you so very badly, but... Really?" 

Pira squeezed Tonino's ass, and let his fingers brush between his cheeks. "It can hurt if you aren't relaxed. And I'm not sure how soon I can recover... If I am going to, I want you to fully enjoy it."

"I'm going to... If only out of curiosity. But I want you, angel, all of a sudden and all to myself. Will you claim me like you claim them? Am I better, am I worthier?" Corvoli held Aziraphale closer, his arms around his lover's shoulders and his mouth, all over Aziraphale's face. "You wanted me to claim you... I didn't. Will you claim me? After all, you're the only one who knows how to do it, right?" He smiled down at Aziraphale. "Am I desirable enough?"

Pira's cock was all but aching, and the thought of it made his balls twitch. He whined and tensed his thighs. "I... I... Oh! Yes... Just... Let me recover enough? And we should make your body ready... We need to open you so it only feels good..."

Aziraphale was going to die. Not make it to his wedding day after all, because his newly betrothed had saved all his lust up for now and he wouldn't survive. Damn! And to think, it had been there, all along. 

Aziraphale prised his buttocks apart, starting to circle his hole with his fingers. "I have wanted to fuck that arse since I first laid eyes on it. And now, knowing you? I want it more... Can you reach the cabinet?"

"Sure," Tonino reached over to the cabinet, then looked back at Aziraphale. "Why?.." Then he realized why. "Oh... Right. Sorry." 

He looked a bit too calm for Aziraphale's taste, but then his desire would never be the same as Aziraphale's, he wouldn't desire with the same intensity or haziness. He was different, and Aziraphale suddenly loved him even more achingly for it.

"You should make yourself comfortable. If you want to lie on your back, put a pillow beneath you. If you want to retain control, you can sit on my lap... Do you know which you'd like?"

Aziraphale held his hand out for the small bottle of oil, then squeezed some into one palm to begin heating it on his fingers.

"I am comfortable. I want you to look at me, angel, all the time. Can you do that?" Tonino tilted his head examining Aziraphale's face.

"For all but a few moments, where I must insist for safety's sake you permit me to take care of you," Pira answered, and started to run his slicker finger in place, pulling and teasing, testing his response. Having climaxed once, it should be a little easier. 

"Do you like what you see?" Pira teased.

"You... You mean, do I like looking at you?.." Tonino spattered, huffed, cursed under his breath and rubbed his eyes. "Angel, are you... No... Not this. I love what I see, angel... And your finger feels weird. Is it supposed to be weird?"

"Things, by nature, go out there, not in. But there are many nerves in this area, and a spot deep inside that can make your body shudder and your hair stand on end. But you have to be gentle, to tease it like a shy lover. Like... Like yourself. It only feels good if it's the right time. If it isn't now, it can be later." 

Aziraphale smiled up at him. "You are the most particular instrument. Your strings are so hard to pluck right, but you make the most incredible sound when I do."

Corvoli smiled, but seemed still tense and unsure. He looked away from Aziraphale and back at him, bit his lip, shifted his feet on the bed... "Aziraphale, I can't. I'm sorry. It was cruel and stupid of me to ask... I love you, angel, please... Can you forgive me?" He grabbed the sheets and tried desperately to both avoid Aziraphale's eyes and never turn away from him.

"There is nothing to forgive." And Pira's voice clearly said as much. "Our lovemaking is what both of us enjoy. It isn't any less complete... But may I clean you, and touch you, without going there? So you do not feel so worried?"

"I want you here. Very, very close." Tonino pulled him down, oblivious to the mess between them, turning his head slightly to kiss down Aziraphale's temple and holding him carefully. "What if I never be... Ready again? I was so curious now... I shouldn't have rushed, right?" 

As if only now discovering his endless legs, Tonino wrapped himself around Aziraphale. 

"Am I... Too much like this? All over you?"

"Unless you regret it, then you did not do wrong. Without trying, you can never know. And... If you should never want this again, I will have the most cherished memory of you, and me, and it will sustain me forever." 

Aziraphale rubbed away some of the lube, then stroked Tonino's buttocks to draw the attention away from the pleasure he didn't want, trying to keep him relaxed and not to associate anything bad with the less involved caresses. 

"I should want you all over me, every day, in every way. Let me feel your heartbeat pressed against me. Let me feel what you gave me."

"Lovely," decided Tonino and squeezed Aziraphale tighter and stronger. He nuzzled his white hair and felt sudden, tingling joy in his fingertips as his mind slowly built a new picture of Pira.

It was a lot like the old, but it had a different frequency, a different feel. He was warm, his angel, that much Tonino always knew, but he hadn't felt before how very fragile Pira was, if only because he was alive; never felt the rise and fall of Pira's chest... "You are my treasure. I never want to stop holding you, angel, so... I don't know what to recommend you. I'm not letting go any time soon, and judging by how sticky we are, I hope we're going to be glued one to another. So much sugar after all shouldn't go to waste."

Pira's smile grew fonder, still. "I have absolutely no intention of stirring. You may not know, but... Well, it's been some time since I managed an encore. A hat trick might very well see me off..."

His fingers kneaded at taut buttocks, very carefully rocking them together for a slower, subtle stimulus between them. "It will be a grand wedding, I have decided. Spring? All blossoms and new life? Summer? Glorious heat and fertility? Autumn? Fat fruits and... Oh, perhaps it shall cover all the seasons! A cake of all, to show the never ending cycle of our love! Yes!"

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter Shaffer owns everything about Confutatis maledictis scene.


	4. A Due

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: more sexual content.  
> And fluff.

_ Pira's letter to his mother _

Dearest mother mine,

I shall cut to the chase. This is not one of my social letters, but one of those terrible letters that beg you for a favour. Before you worry, there is no ruin on the horizon, unless perhaps you say no, and the ruin shall be totally of mine. 

I hope you shall take pity on me, as one of the Almighty’s flock, if not as your own child. Oh, I am so afraid to say! I, who never held a thing from you. I must just out with it.

You remember the boy I told you about? The one with the wild eyes and heart like a hurricane? How can you not. I must have sung his praises a hundred times in every missive. My Tonino. I can say that and mean it, now. My Tonino. 

Mother, may I marry him?

You must say yes. You must. I know it is not done, for either a bastard or one of your little blessings to wed, but we do not seek to take any family name. We are in love. Oh, mother, we are in love!

For the politics, for the Pellegrini have lost their <i>materfamilias</i>, and without her, your old nemeses, the Giordano have no real counter-balance in Florence. So, yes, it serves your purpose, and it does not form any direct challenge. You show your power, but indirectly, and you give your blessing to love. 

Now the boring, statesmanship behind. 

Did I tell you I love him? Did I tell you enough? 

I know, I have been a student of it for so long, but I have now met my master. Or, perhaps I have become his? All those other lovers, they have been nothing in comparison. I have met the one who I wish to never leave. I want to hold him to my chest, and I want to write the finest works of art to salute his every breath. 

You must, oh, you will break my heart if you say no. If you do, I shall simply run away with him to find some place where they do not care what names we bear. I will do whatever you ask if you let me have this one boon. I will surrender my allowance, I will play for whoever you need, entertain whatever beast you ask… Excommunicate me, send me to the coldest, darkest, dankest dive in all of Europe… all I shall need is my Tonino.

Mother, if you ever loved me, or anyone, you shall be honour-bound to heed my pleas. I do not know what else to say to you, only that you hold my life in your hands. 

He is my heart. He is my star. He is my all. 

Please write to me, so I may know my fate. I implore you.

Your faithful servant, and angel after your own example,

Pira

***

_ From Pira's journal _

February 5, 18th year of Franz Joseph N

Today, oh today, I shall illuminate in gold leaf. I shall border each paragraph in hearts. I shall stamp each moment into my mind forever. 

Today, my beloved Tonino asked me for my hand in marriage! He dropped to his knees and proposed!

Alright so it was technically yesterday, and I writing this in the early hours with shielded candle light so as not to wake him, but the cock has not yet crowed so today it still is, by a little imaginative timekeeping. 

But he is here, in my bed! In my arms and heart at last, and mine, forever mine!

A year ago, the circumstance may have given me pause, had I not known him this deeply. He needs my protection, and for his family. Perhaps others may think that cold, but they do not know my firebrand. For him, to admit to this need, this perceived weakness… to not only allow, but actively seek my help… he laid himself bare to me, and I know what a gift that is. I have sought it for long enough, after all. 

And I am only too happy to give him all he could ask and more besides. He is not like me, and that is precious to me. I cannot say I understand, but I do… cherish. He is who he is and yes, I do love that, and now he is sworn to be mine, I would change nothing. 

We… we made love. It was… I do not think words could do it justice. Simply hands, and touching, and holding, and it was as if he taught me the missing parts. As if I had played only the upper register, and missed the left part out all along. My body still hums, and even if it was simply one night… it will feed my soul forever. Anything I have done before was simply bodily contact. I had not made love. It still…. I feel the echoes inside, and I want to shake everyone and tell them, find yours! Find them! 

But not mine. No one shall take mine. I will remove my needs like a voiding of base matter, if I must. I will abstain if I can. I will do whatever he desires, for he gave me this, and I will repay him by giving him what he needs. Or, I shall try. 

Just… do not think ill of me if I hope he might be moved to let me touch him this way again. He calls me his angel, but he is the one sent full of divine love. I always preferred Aristotle to Plato, but perhaps we are together, the two combined. 

***

_ Corvoli's diary _

February 6, 18th year of Franz Joseph N

He agreed, he said yes, we ended up in bed. I'm so full of surprises, because I wanted him to show me how he touches himself. I thought, maybe I would be comfortable pleasing him and I was, I was. I am. I don't want it like he does, I don't require it with the same passion for pleasure my Aziraphale has. My Aziraphale.

We will live together, we are living together. We sleep together. My bed has nothing compared to Aziraphale's bed or more accurately, to Aziraphale pressing himself to my side and holding me in his arms. 

***

_ Corvoli's diary _

February 19, 18th year of Franz Joseph N

I can conclude having examined substantial evidence that I am in fact a cat. 

I'm writing this with Aziraphale sitting on the armrest by my side and running his knuckles up and down my neck which is so wonderful that I'm afraid I'm purring right now. Definitely trembling.

He's laughing and nuzzling my hair. 

I don't know what happened, precisely. I saw him open and vulnerable, mine and for me, and wanted to take it, snatch it, have and hold… I am curious and there's much to say about cats and curiosity, so when Pira offered to touch me I agreed. 

I never knew such tenderness and grace, such calm. I'm embarrassed to admit that I was terribly dramatic, but in my defense, I was scared, felt I was falling apart, blubbered quite a lot and made a complete mess of myself.

But he met me, found me, climaxed with me. I love him. 

I don't feel I had been missing out, I'm glad it happened now. I'm still - and probably will remain - more curious than aroused, despite the physical evidence of my arousal when Aziraphale comes in my arms, when I kiss the bliss off his beautiful face. 

I love touching him, anywhere, really. He's reading over my shoulder and giggling so I'm going to embarrass him with the ongoing list of touches and activities we enjoy. I'll start with my angel, as in how I touch him.

I like touching his neck, kissing him there too. He's so soft and warm and moaning sweetly when I do.

I'm an infatuated lover of his collarbones and chest hair. 

I love how his chest is padded and soft and I can lie there and listen to his heart. 

I love his tummy, soft like the rest of him, unless he tenses. 

I love his round shoulders and strong arms. I adore his legs, white, pampered, like the rest of him. 

His arse is something I can't keep my hands off. Golden section, Pi, wondrous equations, because I've got no words to describe how perfect it is. 

He likes that I touch him. He guides me sometimes and sometimes just looks at me and I begin to read those looks that say "touch me between my legs", "touch my armpits, gently" (I'm having a passionate love affair with his armpits, which I find terrible and Pira finds endearing.) or "touch my neck" or "hold me" (just a quick hug, as opposed to  _ hold me _ which is "undress immediately, darling, and lie down with me so that I can feel all of you").

I like it when he's on his stomach after bath and lets me cover him with my body or when I sit between his thighs and caress and touch his buttocks and spread them carefully. I discovered I enjoy kissing him there - that sharp inhale he makes, how he stills, how he moans. When I look at him to check whether he's enjoying it, his eyes are shut and his features, serene. He trusts me so… my dear angel, Pira, soft and open for me. 

We haven't gone any further, haven't tried anything other than touches and kisses. The glutton he is, Aziraphale is excited about the possibility of sucking my dick, which I'm definitely not ready for. When he caresses me, I want his face close to mine, looking me in the eyes.

Holy mackerel, I'm so done for, I love him so much. 

He's giggling again. Shameless, really, really shameless. 

What would you say, oh my angel, if I just keep writing about our touches while you're sitting here? He's apparently going to hump the armrest. I'm definitely going to tease him.

I like undressing him, like how he shivers when I untie his cravat, how he gazes at me sidewards when I take his shirt off, pulling it down his arms, pressing the delicate fabric into even more delicate skin. When I undo his pants, there's always that red stripe, a mark his clothes dare leave on his velvet underbelly. I kiss him there, and it tickles, so he laughs and pulls me up, or at least he tries, and I don't stand up, I still need to take care of the rest. I push him to sit somewhere (bed, preferably bed), so I can trace my fingers down those beautiful legs as I pull his stockings down, take his shoes off. He always sighs once he's fully naked, wiggles letting the air caress him. I might be a bit jealous of the air. 

He scoots back, lies on our pillows and looks at me… how he looks at me! Pulls me in, pulls me on, pulls me closer, closer, closer and if I'm still undressed then woe is me, he'll tear my clothes away and grab me and kiss me… I usually tense when he starts covering me in kisses, it feels… too much, and he remembers himself almost immediately after I start breathing faster. He apologizes, sweet idiot. I straddle him, and we look at each other. I'm not supposed to look at such bright objects from so short a distance, but I'll be damned if I ever take my eyes off of him. The sight of him pleasuring himself leaves me breathless. 

When his first sated laziness passes, he often gets up and plays for me, bare arsed by the fortepiano, so dear to me. The irony is that he writes his best, his most complex music as he's sitting naked by the instrument making eyes at me and insisting I bring "that lovely skinny bottom" over. Of course I bring it over along with the rest of me and put my head on his shoulder. He tells me to take over, so I do, but he puts his hands on mine and we play together, his fingers soft and clever. 

For sure it ends too soon and I need to immediately climb on his lap and I still fail to comprehend how kneading my "lovely skinny bottom" is more pleasant than playing… on the other hand, as I mentioned, I love his bottom, but there's more of it and it's indeed lovely. 

Lost in thought, wasn't paying attention to my real and warm Aziraphale. He isn't humping the armrest. I'm disappointed. I'm going to try on that pout of his.

(The rest of the page bears evidence to spilled ink.)

***

_ From Pira's journal _

February, 18th year of Franz Joseph N

It was not only one time. Indeed, it has been many times. So many, many glorious times. 

I am more interested in - well - the end result than he is, or interested in a different way? Or less often? Whatever, we are not the same, but we work together perfectly, and I find myself most assuredly happy. 

He likes to watch me, and I like to show him. Partially because I enjoy the sensations, but more because - he does! He does want to watch, and not merely out of courtesy. And finding his interest - arousal - whatever it is - and being able to find a way to satisfy it… that matters to me, more, than how many times he needs tissues after our engagements. 

Is it irony? That one who was so free with their body, can now find equal pleasure in the fingers in their hair? In kisses, in holding hands, in falling asleep with him tangled in my embrace? It is the opposite of gluttony, or maybe I had over-done my gorging on only one course of a banquet, and I had not realised the equal - or greater - pleasure in varying between all dishes. 

And so, he is my spouse already in all but name. He has moved in with me, and now we find the parts where we quarrel over milk and strawberries, but our quarrels are merely discussions with differing opinions. Debate, and snoring, and cold toes in bed. The little annoyances - if they are even that - simply make me love him more, for they are more parts of him that I now have to love. 

Ah, my heart, it hurts just to think his name, to remember his face. He is mine, and mine forever. I shall wrap him in fine silks and weave a net to keep him in my arms. I had never thought happiness could be so great, and so painful, yet perfect, in one. 

***

_ Corvoli's diary _

February 20, 18th year of Franz Joseph N

New diary. My previous journal is soaked in ink all the way through because I just had to be immediately kissed thoroughly on my table. I love him.

All Aziraphale can think about now is the wedding. I don't like weddings, I had accompanied too many of my kin to their arranged marriages and it's cruel of me to be so happy, but bugger all, I love him.

He wants it to be huge - and he still has to talk to the emperor, since it's my bones that now get all the attention… I love him.

He wants it to be huge, and I want it to be quick. If he goes on with his meticulous planning - and we still have our jobs and the emperor needs to be serenaded into accepting the administrative reform that would benefit those in need. I'm not allowed to think of it. 

I'm not thinking about the wedding though, apart from that part where I promise Aziraphale to love him forever. I do like stating the obvious.

I will write our wedding music, and Aziraphale is in for my tedious, unnecessarily complex music,  _ and  _ he'll have to dance with me. I love him.

I love his voice, his eyes, his music, his hands, his fussiness, his pettiness and above all I love his unwavering kindness. 

Waking up next to him, watching him fucking his breakfast (seems I'm very jealous of the eggs), going to the court together, me, doing my kapellmeister duties, talking to musicians, arranging for the concerts and balls, and Aziraphale, pleasing, blessing everyone with his happy company, while I am in possession of his music. And arse. 

His light, bright, careless, pleasant mind, a flame rising to the sky, a bird maneuvering the air. It comes natural to him, to be brilliant, to be dazzling. He would be dazzling anywhere. 

Such thoughts inevitably lead me to my worst nightmares, my worst fears. I never wanted to write down my fears, to give them life that way. I stopped having nightmares now that we sleep together every night. But sometimes I look at him, look at my Aziraphale and I want to bargain with the Almighty, however useless it is, for his well-being, for his health, for his pleasures. Is there something I could give up, so that - strictly physics - Aziraphale gets his endless share of happiness? Is there something I could offer so that he's safe and protected for the rest of his life? I love him.

The wedding… 

When we come home, when we eat, when he has his hands all over me, when I cling to him like a wet rag, when he washes my hair and when I wash all of him as he moans under my hands… What can I offer to those up above or down below to let me keep him like that, relaxed, without a worry… I love him.

***

_ Corvoli's letter to Bea _

Hello, my dear sibling. I was worried about you. I'm rather afraid of your anger. 

I'm marrying Aziraphale Fiore, who as you know, is the Pope's beloved son. This will guarantee you the support from Rome, and you will be able to return to Florence. The Pope has always held a grudge against the Giordano, and the aristocrats want you back, Bea. I'm happy to arrange for your return, I'm sorry I won't ever join you. My reputation in Florence is enough help though. Do whatever you think is the best course of action. I will always support you, which means the Pope will too. 

I can hear you whining and complaining and scorning me for marrying someone, since you know how uninterested I am in everything that people perceive to be crucial in marriage. You don't want to owe a thing to your bastard brother, but you don't. I love him, I love him so terribly, stupidly much. I'd do anything to ensure your safety and prosperity, but it turns out all I need to do is to marry the man I've loved for a long time. You wouldn't want to hear my rambling, so I'm sparing you most of it.

Do prosper, dear Bea. Achieve your dreams. I am forever your faithful servant, your friend, your brother,

Tonino Corvoli.

***

_ Bea's letter to Tonino _

I, Bea Pellegrini, the rightful heir to the duchess of Florence, hereby declare my brother Antonio my heir in case I never produce children of my own, and my children's guardian, if I do have children and die before they reach the age when they can be entrusted with the duties of the duchy. Henceforth Antonio Corvoli will be known as Antonio Pellegrini.

There you go, big brother. They fear you in Florence, after all this time, they fear you and your music and meticulous planning. I don't love you, brother, you're a pain in my neck, but I have the utmost respect for you, and I have to tell you that I'm happy to owe you anything you might want, but I thought you'd want to marry your beloved as a Pellegrini. Sincerely,

Bea.

***

_ Corvoli's diary, cont. _

March 7, 18th year of Franz Joseph N

I once had to lead the embassy to Turkey which for me turned into pilgrimage to Greece and then the rest of the Balkani. Our wedding dance will definitely have a Balkanian taste to it. It's mischievous and so defiantly happy. I intend to be defiantly happy. 

Bea made me a Pellegrini. Very generous of them, but I always was a Pellegrini. 

  
  



	5. Allegro maestoso

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: sexual content

Corvoli opened his eyes and smiled squinting at the sun. Some day he will convince Aziraphale to draw the curtains so that they can sleep longer. 

He stretched, feeling Aziraphale's heat along his spine and bottom and legs

The musician was not yet awake fully, but he felt the stirring and nuzzled closer, hands finding belly and hips rutting languidly at the warm body he was cuddling.

"Angel," Tonino whispered and tried to turn in Aziraphale's arms, but he was being held too tightly. "Am I not allowed to look at you, Pira?" He chuckled and kissed Aziraphale's forearm

"Mmmmnh," was the intelligent reply, and another squeeze to his middle. "We'll get a mirror. So I may hold you, and you may watch."

"Are you planning something at this hour?" Corvoli rolled his eyes and pushed his head into Aziraphale's shoulder. "What do I need to watch?"

"I am always planning something." He rubbed his cheek against his lover's, and hooked one ankle over his to press against his rump. "Should I stop? It is simply that your rear is one of the most perfect things ever created, and I cannot help but enjoy it. Can't you feel?"

Corvoli shifted a bit. "I... I do need to look at you, please."

His arms relaxed, and he moved to let him turn. "Anything for you."

"You're... Do you want me to touch you?" Corvoli asked, obviously not that excited. "I'll do a..." He breathed in. "You'll have to... Seduce me, angel." Tonino tried to laugh but it came out as a whimper. "I want you to seduce me, I do. Just... Seduce me."

"Do you? Because I am perfectly content to simply want you, and hold you, if you do not find it distressing. Just because my body is hungry, it does not need a full meal." He lightly pinched his sharp chin, and angled it to smile at him. "We need do nothing more than a year of seduction, if it's what will make you happy, my dear one."

"Tell me what you want," asked Tonino looking up at Aziraphale, bedazzled, enchanted, offering. "Tell me. I want to make you... I want to please you. Tell me what you want, angel."

"I want you happy," he argued. "Nothing else is fixed in stone. If you should like me to kiss you all over, if you should like simply that I hold you..." He pushed through his hair, knotting his fingers into it. "My darling, aren't we a pair? Each wanting only the other's happiness... and do we not already have it?"

"Aziraphale... You wanted something. Tell me what it is, angel, and then I will be able to tell you if I'm able to give it to you. I want to give you everything." Tonino leaned up and tilted his head to kiss Aziraphale and tentatively push his tongue into Pira's mouth. He felt awkward, but he wanted that moan he got in return.

Replying was quite off the menu when he had kisses, instead, and he sucked very slightly at the tongue he was offered. His hands moved to the beloved rump, and pulled him in closer, and he couldn't restrain the shudder of sensation. 

When it broke, he shyly ducked his head. "I will not enter you, not unless you ever wish it. But I... oh, if you would like it, too, the thought of holding you in my arms, pushing between those thighs... sliding against you, fucking up against your balls... it would not hurt, or feel too strange, but it would be like claiming you from the outside... and if you were moved, I could... I could reach to touch you, to bring you along with me... it's foolish, I know, I know..."

"Why the devil is it foolish? It's quite ingenious, really. Show me. But I insist you look at me. Want your eyes wide open, looking at me."

"...it will be rather more difficult from in front, but I can try," he said, blushing. "I am not as gifted as you may think I am. But we could... we could lie as if I was... as if I would enter you, but I should use your thighs, instead?"

"Yes, I got that." Tonino made a face. "I will look at you, even if you're fucking my hips from behind. I will look at you. Want to see your pleasure, angel." He kissed the corner of his lover's mouth. "Oil? Or is your own precum quite enough? Wait, I have an idea!" Corvoli scooted down, so that his breath was touching the tip of Aziraphale's cock. "May I? Please, you can't deny me a morning... Snack." He grinned mischievously.

The musician startled, and his hands moved to his lover's shoulders, his neck, dancing as if not quite touching keys. "Oh... oh, I - do you want to?" The squeak in his voice and the sudden saute from his prick said absolutely yes.

"I do, angel. Wouldn't have offered..." Tonino kissed the tip, laved over the slit and then took all of Aziraphale's length into his mouth all at once. His saliva was dripping down Pira's cock, as he bobbed his head, humming each time he heard Aziraphale moan and curse and whimper. "Love you, angel," he said softly stopping his sweet torture. "Love you so much. Love you. Want to fucking eat you until you're all wet and messy... Do you think you could hold on for me? Come between my hips, not between my lips, is that alright?" He took Aziraphale's member back into his mouth.

Pira was not sure how he could possibly hold out, not when those lips were there, that tongue, those eyes and - FUCKING FUCK FUCK FUCK! Pira grabbed the bedding, rending at it and not holding back the wanton, lewd, ravenous noises. One foot pulled up the bed, his hips pushing back and away. 

"NOT IF YOU KEEP DOING THAT TO ME! OH GOD!" He wanted to grab Tonino's head, push down his throat. "WHERE DID YOU LEARN TO SUCK COCK, I WILL KILL WHOEVER IT WAS, AFTER I THANK THEM."

Corvoli pulled up, puzzled. "What do you mean? I watched you suck oysters, angel, seemed like a good technique... Shall I return to you? You are rather wet," he licked from the root to the tip. "And no longer delicious now that I have my saliva all over you."

Aziraphale dropped back, defeated. His whole groin was a throbbing, pounding mess. And he wanted to scream. There was no way he'd have any finesse now. "Gnnnnnnffff."

"I have no idea what that means, angel." Tonino climbed back and pressed his bum to Aziraphale's crotch. "Show me, love," he turned his head to kiss Aziraphale. "Show me. Do it... Oh love, darling, do it. Take your pleasure from me."

"Means... you're f-fucking my brains out and... I'm..." He gripped his thigh, and thrust, clamping the leg down, pushing his spit-slick cock between cheeks and finding his balls to rut against. "Want you SO much... Tonino... want... want to fuck you until our legs don't work! Oh!"

His hands scrabbled, his kisses frantic and his breath heavy and panting. "Do - do - you want m-my hand or.... or just my kisses... I..." His hips twitched as he tried to get enough friction. It was almost like taking his hole, and the position... the vulnerability and the free offering of himself... He forced dizzied eyes to meet his. "You. Oh, you. Make... make it all... AUGH!"

Tonino reached to cup Aziraphale's face. "I want you happy, angel. Would... I would love to come with you, but would you... Would you want to pleasure me just for this togetherness alone? I want to come with you, love. You and only you. I love it when we come together, but do you... Do you want it too?"

"Tonino! Oh! How can you ask? Of course! I would pleasure you, and leave me wanting, if it was what you wished! I - I - when we find our bliss, our harmony at once... this is... oh, this is the most exquisite... to know you want me, to know you want for yourself, as much as for me... it--" He reached lower, guiding the tip of his thrusting cock, his fingers keeping it in place as his palm and thumb worked over his lover's cock. 

"It is the most... the best... to - to feel - to feel you there, with me... it means nothing without you. Without... it must be us, and us, not I or you, but... please, please, I will die a hundred times!"

Tonino knotted his hair fiercely. "Don't you dare!" He growled. "I'm yours and you're mine. Take what you want from me... No." He looked at Aziraphale. "I'm sorry, love. I... I need you. I want you to find pleasure in me and me alone. Yessss. Like that.. like you're touching me now. I love you, Aziraphale, I love you so much..." He hid his face in Aziraphale's neck, uncomfortably twisted, holding Aziraphale's head by the hair and grasping at Aziraphale's arm, as Pira caressed him and slapped between Tonino's thighs. "Yes, love, yes. Like that. Come, my beloved angel, my clever darling, come, and make me come." Tonino kissed Pira's nose. "Come now, come for me."

"Only - only with you, only for you... oh, Tonino... you complete me, I will die without you..." He tried his best to angle his movement to satisfy them both, to rub and grind, as his hand twisted to roughly, hungrily fist over the erection he'd thought he'd never be able to touch. Feeling it there, in spite of everything, it felt like the most tender, sweet gift. The most intimate of connections, and his eyes demanded his partner's as his moans turned silent, choked breaths and a belly that tensed and twitched as he came between Tonino's legs.

"Darling... Oh darling." Corvoli quietly breathed out his release, planting kisses all over Aziraphale's face. "Like that, yes, angel, like that. Love seeing you happy, love seeing you satisfied, you glutton, you dream, you music... I love you so much. You can have all of me... All of me," he repeated hotly into Aziraphale's mouth. "Shh, hush, Aziraphale, I've got you. You'll never be alone again, and neither will I. My angel."

Aziraphale couldn't help it, he couldn't. He was practically sobbing, and he pulled smeary hands over Tonino, over his belly, over his face, laughing while words were impossible. He tangled him into a knot, and then pushed him onto his belly for a moment, kissing his neck and shoulders, before he fell back and tugged until he was face to face again. "Dulzura de mi vida..."

"Don't get poetic there, angel." Tonino warned laughing. "You're in Austria and you had the emperor for a lover. You still have to deal with it."

"...more like... a dinner guest with benefits. You... can't compare that, to this. It is like... a nursery rhyme to... to a symphony..."

"You promised me you'd talk to the old fuck. We can't get married without his permission, and as much as I love you, I'm begging you to remember that my family's lives depend on you." He was serene, properly serious for once, and begging desperately, without shame or honour. "Please, Aziraphale. I have to protect them."

"I got the letter. from my mother.. he was busy, all this week, and... I need him to be in a good mood." He breathed, his whole chest rising and falling with exaggerated effort. He chewed his lip, because - damn, but he was worried. "You will be taking me from his lap. And I need to ensure... that he does not take a toll. That..." His toes curled. "My dear, what if - what if he demands the right of prima nocte? Or - or even before? What if that is the cost of his approval?"

Corvoli raised his head and held Aziraphale's wrists down to the bed. "No prima nocte. You're mine. Damn them all, damn each and every one of them. Do you want me to come with you? Do you want me to help you hypnothize the old fuck into obedience? I'm not giving you up, angel, not ever. I love you."

"If it is the only way... I should not enjoy it, but if I - if - if it is the only way to ensure that later I am yours... that we are together..." His eyes teared up. "I do not want him to touch me. But if I must... oh, my darling, would you forgive me?" He shook his head, and gulped firmly. "I will see him alone, if he is not happy, I must protect you."

"Angel," Corvoli pushed him harder. "If you... If he suggests it, then we go off together. To Rome, anywhere. I'm not... You're not a bottle of wine to be shared between friends. If he suggests it, then we run away. You're mine, angel, you're mine," he was crying and burying his face on Aziraphale's chest. "I love you, I need you, I'll give you anything... If you want him, do whatever you like, but if you don't, then... Let him choke on his own lust, you're mine, you're mine." He propped himself up on his elbows. "You promised yourself to me. Don't take it away from me, please. I'm worthless and talentless and too boring, but I'll burn the world for you."

"You are everything to me - and I want no one's hands on me but you - but your family? Will they - will my mother be enough? I shall get a job if I must, I will provide for you, I - I just..." Aziraphale was crying, too, squirming, sniffling. "I will do whatever you want from me. Let... let me see him alone. I may just be foolish and worried for nothing... my love, I will go wherever, just to be with you..."

"You'll do no such thing. I'm not losing you. As for a job, angel, you can never hold one proper job in your life." He drank Aziraphale's tears with the same moves of his tongue he had used to eat Aziraphale's come. "Mine. Mine alone. Love you."

***

He had been avoiding the emperor, a little. Since Antonino walked in and finally did acknowledge their relationship, he'd been afraid of seeing him and rebuffing his advances. Coy, or later, was different to 'no'. But. he needed to. Aziraphale tugged the edges of his fine coat down, plucked at his lace cuffs, and... Brave face. Brave face. He strode into the room, only a short pause after he'd been invited. "Your imperial majesty..."

"Aziraphale, my dear boy!" The emperor dismissed the courtiers with a movement of his brow and smiled at Aziraphale. "How may I help? Is the kapellmeister any better? He seemed such a mess... Understandable of course. His mother was a formidable, formidable woman." The emperor shook his head, expressing his presumed grief.

"Yes, well, thank-- I mean-- oh, I--" Aziraphale was making a terrible mess of this. Utterly awful. His heart was thudding like mad, and his mouth had forgotten how to work. Oh, this was - it - He strode up, and held out a letter, bowing deeply and terrified over it. "I come to beg for your blessing, to - to - I intend to marry him, and my m-- the Pope has agreed, and I would be honoured if you would allow me to do so in your empire, and--"

The emperor snatched the letter revealing himself as an army man of few emotions and fewer manners. He looked through the letter, frowned, then looked back at Aziraphale and suddenly burst out laughing.

"...y-your majesty?" he stammered, his hands turning over and over. "I - did I offend you?"

The emperor kept laughing. "Oh... Oh... My boy... I just... I had this bet with my... With my valet..." He was so weak with laughter, he collapsed on the nearest sofa. "He was sure Corvoli would never do anything and I was sure you would never do anything... I owe him quite a lot now. I'm so cross with you," the emperor tried to frown and instead laughed some more.

"...o-oh." His face was bright, bright red. "Uh. Well. I'm sorry? Corvoli proposed, so... But... you are... we have your approval? We... may we?" He was nearly crying. "You see, I quite love him, no - I truly do, and... and I implore you to let me marry him and make an honest man out of him..."

"And out of you, to be sure." The emperor stood up, adjusting his clothes. "I will not even insist on the prima nocte, dear boy. Your love is fierce, a true Italian... He'd murder me in my sleep." The emperor chuckled and swallowed another outburst of laughter. "Of course, Aziraphale. He loves you, he loves you so much he frankly scares me... Can you... Do you love him equally? For the sake of his mother, I'd hate to see him upset and jealous, and I saw him being both upset and jealous, and although I saw battles, Corvoli is far more fearsome."

Aziraphale didn't mean to, but he wept. Tears of relief, and joy, and love. It was quite utterly unbecoming. Entirely wrong. But he couldn't help it, it was all too much. "Yes!" he croaked, his voice nearly wrecked. "Yes, I do, I do. I have loved him forever, and now he loves me back, and - thank you, thank you, I do... I... I want no one else but him. We will be your most loyal of adopted servants, but we are - we are one, my lord. He is my all." He wiped tears away with his sleeves, even more unbecoming.

"Oh my dear boy... Always known you were sentimental, but this..." The emperor walked closer to Aziraphale and gingerly put a hand on the man's shoulder. "Come on, man up, man up. I know Corvoli can be overwhelming and far too intense... You know there are rumors he scared the whole Florence into obedience, being a bastard and an exile and all... Can you believe it? They are scared of his name alone! Could you imagine that?"

Pira was about to cry again, but he sputtered it down. "I am sorry. You are so very kind. I can believe it... he has quite chained my heart to his own. I would sing his praises to you, but--" he laughed again. "You have heard how my music has changed, you have heard more of our courtship than anyone else."

"If I did," the emperor began, "then I didn't pay it as much attention as I should have. Come, Aziraphale, entertain me, the way you and your beloved did with that opera, with Figaro. Do you think you could tell me about him? Convince me that I am indeed in possession of two brilliant minds at my court!"

"I speak better with my art, than I do with my words," he insisted. "He is the reason you have enjoyed anything I do. I would like to bring you something better than my incoherent ramblings. I fear all I shall say is that he enchants me, and that he is the most wonderful thing I have ever laid my eyes or hands upon, and... forgive me, you have much better to do than listen to my childish heart!"

"No, I don't. Now that I have no access to your body, I want to hear what your soul has to say. Or am I wrong, and you don't separate one from the other?"

His head swam, and he clasped his hands behind his back. "They are distinct, but all are his," he murmured, demurely. "I - what do I say? I fall asleep with his heart beating against my chest. I wake with the scent of him woven through my dreams. I want to follow him through the house, through the garden... I want to listen to him breathe, and feel him laugh, and smile, and cry... I want to see the world as he does. I want - I want to show him every happiness the world has, and... and... I would kill anyone who tried to harm him!"

"Yes, my boy. Yes. I feel so very old listening to you, but keep going... Keep going." He leaned back on the sofa and closed his eyes. "All this power, Aziraphale, all this power, over who lives or who dies... And I could never actually feel that young, truly powerful love... You two, you'd die for each other. Tell me more, tell me... Unless it's a secret of yours, tell me more."

"You simply did not find your Tonino," he replied, shyly. "That's the problem. If you find them, you will know. And you *will* know. You will not be able to hold your breath because - because you will need to keep telling them how you feel! I - I do not know what I should say. He is like music, like air, like wine, like... everything. It would be indecent to tell you all of how I feel... he is... he is mine."

"Beautiful," the emperor replied, tears in his eyes. "Go, Aziraphale. You have my approval and support. You'll marry your beloved as soon as you want and every assistance I can provide, I will."

The angel, by name and convention if nothing more, dropped to his knees and lifted his hands to beg for the emperor's, to kiss in gratitude. "If you ever find your one, we will write for you the sweetest thing you ever heard. And I shall never forget your kindness to us both."

He rose, clearly giddy to return to his betrothed. "A thousand thank yous would never suffice... I must tell him at once!"

***

_ From Pira's journal _

March 10, 18th year of Franz Joseph N

Today, I discovered a whole new way of lovemaking. I seem to find a new one every day. I, the one who made it his life’s mission to never shy from trying any pleasure that might come my way. At least once, so I could know if I was inclined that way or not. 

Now, of course, the traditional is all out of the window. It is almost boring to think of hands, or mouths, or arses. Alright, I enjoy them, still. But now, to know I must work harder, or perhaps it is because it is him - everything is a tease, the whole day is foreplay, the barest glance is like he undresses me and strips me to the bone. Beyond, to something quintessential. To… to me…

Today, he was conducting, and I was -- oh! How did I not soil myself? How did I not cry to the heavens, and disgrace myself in front of my mother’s boss? 

It was quite indecent. I stood behind, which was a mistake, and I saw the silhouette of him in all his brilliance, cut like a dark shadow, a void that ate all light and demanded I give all my soul into the inky depths. Those shoulders, those hands… I watched him conjure up spirits from the tongues of reeds, from the heart-strings, the wooden hearts and tempered metal. 

From the chthonic depths of the building, he plucked up the souls of the whole underworld. He described a universe in each note, and he stroked those fingers around each moment, each demi-quaver. They slid into my chest, pushed between my ribs, and gripped my heart. Down my spine, through every nerve as a summer storm. 

Is it possible to feel arousal in even your hair? Each follicle on my frame. Each ounce of blood in my veins. My body ached and moaned, and it was… 

I watched him carve the world to his will, bend the fabric of reality with his song. I heard him build mountains and trace the wings of beetles. I had no idea it was possible to know the world in the smallest microcosm. 

He exploded, and I felt - I felt - him? I knew him? I saw, maybe, what he says he sees when I write for him? Is it possible to make love without a single brush of finger, or a glance of eyes? I don’t know.

But when I got him to myself, I had him. I worshipped him. I praised him. I knew him. 

It should not be possible to fall deeper in love, and somehow I am sure I do with every minute more.

I am so, so lost. I never wish to be found. May I never regain my senses again. 

***

_ From Corvoli's diary _

March 10, 18th year of Franz Joseph N

The emperor proved to be much more decent than I would have expected of him. I suspect that my disgust with him has been mostly caused by the fact that he had his hands all over my angel, which is hypocritical of me, since I wasn't that eager to have my own hands all over him not so long ago. I'm still not as eager as Pira. 

I can't be any more eager to bring him joy and see his face lighting. 

If the emperor is as shrewd as I perceived him to be lewd, he must seize the opportunity to help Bea. His influence in Italy is little and he'll want to establish himself as a great monarch. Fucking arrogant arse!

We've been tricking him into all sorts of things which benefit the majority of the country and place all sorts of wicked restrictions on the nobles, so we made him a very popular figure and the nobles wouldn't want to face a fucking riot if they seize the power. They are not smart enough for this. In my time I helped overthrow a few dukes and princes… and received my fair share of punishment for it.

I don't want to talk about it. To think about it.

Pira found me rehearsing, and apparently finds my mad praying mantis style quite fetching. He dragged me into the carriage and snogged me silly on our way home… Perhaps, I thought, he was just excited that the emperor agreed to our marriage. I don't like the emperor anywhere near Pira's excitement, if only because my angel tried to take my cock into his mouth in the bloody carriage. 

It takes some work, some ingenuity for us to be together and I do want to satisfy him in every way, but cocksucking is not on the menu for my beloved glutton. I'll readily do it for him, once put in the mood, but I can't have his face so far from me. 

He complied, he always does these days. We agreed he would give me a bath, so he washed me, all of me, head to toe. It was embarrassing… and then it was lovely. He was so aroused and frustrated by the end of the washing, while I was barely capable of moving. Pira's tenderness and care melt me. We sat on our bed, I held him as he masturbated, all pink and moaning and delighted. 

***

_ From Pira's journal _

April 2, 18th year of Franz Joseph N

I do not normally have to take such pains to organise things. Usually, I have someone to do it all. 

Well, I suppose, I still have people to do things, but there are much more things to decide before… I keep saying ‘things’. I have said some words so often recently that they have ceased to hold any meaning, and have become strange sounds in my mouth.

Outfits. Guest lists. Food. Flowers. Cake. Wine. Birds.

I have been to weddings. I did not realise they had so many things, really. I suppose I focussed mainly on the couple’s outfits, words, music, and food. The other items were merely background noise, but now I know there is language in the choice of flowers. That birds are omens, that favours are prayers, that you can’t seat the wrong people together, and that you need to really want it, because by the end of each consultation you will wonder why you should not just continue to have glorious congress in sin. 

My big brother is, of course, smug. Mother informed us both that he would be officiating the ceremony (and, as she is head of the Church on this planet, I suppose it is only right) so that decision was removed from my hands. 

In truth, Gabriel doing the ceremony means that he will be less tempted to share awful memories of me until the deed is done, so my intended will be stuck with me and not second-guess his proposal, and also I will hopefully be so drunk and in love that I will not care. 

I wonder if he is jealous? 

He chose a life of the cloth, or rather he did not disagree with the choice that convention gave him. I do not mean that he does not believe - oh, there’s been few creatures less devout than Gabriel, in his own way - but that he knew his duty and he did it, without ever once thinking if that was what he wanted. It became what he wanted.

Maybe whoever - ahem - helped bless my mother’s womb with me gave me a different outlook, or maybe it’s just that we are all different. It is not that I do not love the divine, it is more that… my spirit could not be contained in their abbeys and their cloisters and their rules. I appreciate the practice they follow, but it would drive me insane. I should end up cursing the Almighty and resenting them.

No, my worship is different. It is in - for myself - enjoying what the world has. And… is it conceited to think that my efforts to explain my love for creation in chords and trills is my own way of connecting to that which is greater? I always saw it as something more than just pleasant noises. 

I do not talk much of it, for I fear people will mock me. I fear they will laugh and say a licentious, libidinous wastrel as myself is simply pretentious, or mad. 

But I feel it, all the same. When I hear the cut of breath across the auditorium. When I feel the electric pause before the ovation. When I see just one person, moved by my work.

I see and feel it all the more in my Tonino. I fear he perceives in my work more than I have felt myself. For him, music is even more intense than in anyone I have known. Most of my masters at the art saw it more in terms of expertise, of execution. It was the crowd who lacked the words to explain the movements, but could appreciate the surface, that I found the… reaction? 

Too often, knowing how the structure is held up makes the eye and mind forget the patina. They see the struts and beams, the joints and joists. They forget to admire the planed wood and delicate curves. But in Tonino, he can see the architecture below, and he finds it as appealing as the lick of paint above.

Or maybe I wax lyrical, driven blind by my love. Who is to know? 

Gabriel chose his worship, I chose mine. I believe he is happy for me. He teases, but it does not feel like hate. Perhaps there is more compassion in me, since I found my soul mate, but I cannot be angry with him or anyone else. Not right now, at least.

It is a good feeling. 

April 5, 18th year of Franz Joseph N

If even  _ I _ think it is too many types of cherry, it is too many types of cherry.

April 10, 18th year of Franz Joseph N

There apparently is such a thing as ‘pinker pink’, but I wish I had never asked.

April 12, 18th year of Franz Joseph N

Of all life’s frustrations, your beloved, betrothed, intended, love of your life, beat of your heart, most gloriously nearly-perfect item of affections… when he says you are being impossibly fussy, and far too complicated and contrived, instead of thanking you for taking on the responsibility of deciding what flowers should be planted around the city and how far in advance, so that the walls echo your wedding ceremony and your guests walk home and feel that the whole of Faustria is celebrating your love? 

It’s important! And hard work! I am not a nit-picking perfectionist. And he should be grateful I am doing all of the difficult work!

_ (Added later.) _

He was grateful. 

Now I need to sleep for a month. 

***

_ From Corvoli's diary _

April 12, 18th year of Franz Joseph N

Note to myself: let Aziraphale fuss and tell me about flowers, clothes and suchlike, let him drive himself crazy with this wedding. If I don't do it, he'll drive me crazy and I will let him suck my cock… Maybe that's his true purpose?

  
  
  



	6. Allegro moderato

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: lots of sex

Breakfast was the second meal of the day, now. Kisses (and occasionally more) were always the first meal, but eventually, breakfast would call to empty bellies. Pira was happily doing the dance of pastries and tea at the table, spreading crumbs as he did so, humming off-handedly to himself and thinking about the day ahead.

Tonino in the meantime gloomily sipped his coffee and read a newspaper. He was only partially dressed, as the helping hands of Aziraphale's valet were refused most determinedly and Aziraphale got offended for the sake of his valet and refused to tie Tonino's cravat or choose a coat for him (they were all still black and sometimes, if Tonino felt mischievous, very dark blue).

Two pastries in, and the little grey cloud of sulk was still across the table, with that heavy-sky of impending thoughts which were possibly less than pleasant. Pira sighed, and sat back, resting his cup on his belly. "What is it?"

Corvoli sputtered, made a lot of indignant noises, waved his arms around and finally pointed at Aziraphale and said: "You! It's you! Didn't do my tie, didn't pick me a coat... First you're all, "oh Tonino, fire of my loins, let me spoil you," and then you just... Fuck off!"

"I do spoil you," Pira replied, very primly. "So much so that you think you can behave like a prig to my valet. He has feelings too, you know." He sighted along his nose. "I indulge you terribly. I didn't do your tie because you were cruel."

"Cruel?" Tonino's grin wasn't funny at all, unless someone would find a lurking tiger funny. He put his cup down and threw the newspaper on the floor. "Put down your cup, open your pants. You can use butter if you want, but I'd rather you lick your fingers all over and fuck your fist."

"I beg your pardon?" Pira ruffled like a peacock, or some other stuffy bird, blinking at the demands. "What, precisely do you think you're doing?"

"I am being cruel  _ and _ indulging. Do it." Tonino's confidence shuttered for a moment. "If you want to. I'm sorry, angel, I didn't... Fuck!" He moved to stand up.

Aziraphale reached for his wrist, eyes suddenly full of compassion. "You can be capricious with me, but not with the staff, my darling. If you are cross, let me take it, and not them. Apologise to him later, and be angry at me for insisting you do so, now."

"Then... If you want to, open your pants and touch yourself. Pleasure yourself, for me." Tonino begged.

"I always want to." He parted his legs, but didn't turn to face him square on. A little distance, a little obscurity, as he pulled himself out. His hand and cuff concealed all but the movement, as he started to rub over his hand. "Are you cross with me?"

"You didn't lick your fingers. Here, let me do it." Tonino got up and sauntered over to Pira, kneeling next to him. "I'm not cross with you, I never manage to be cross with you." He gingerly took Aziraphale's hand and brought it to his lips. "Let me?"

"I wanted it to be rough," Pira replied, but let Tonino take his hand all the same. "Because I felt you were annoyed."

"No, I only want your pleasure. If you wish for it to be rough, then so be it. If you want me to lick your hand, I will." Tonino kissed Aziraphale's knuckles. "Touch yourself. Let our argument be but a prelude to your pleasure. I'll never say a rude word to the help, ever."

"I..." Aziraphale turned his hand over, giving access to his palm. "Would you... suck my fingers, instead? And then I will... oh... I will do anything you desire... you really are quite... impressive, when you are passionate about something, did you know?"

"I'm trying to... For you. I wasn't like that when I was back in Florence... Never used my powers of persuasion to please someone I love." He gently sucked at Aziraphale's fingertips. "Lovely angel, my beautiful darling..." He sucked again. "The problem with this sucking business..." He sucked some more. "I can't talk to you while I'm thus occupied. And I adore talking to you." Tonino caressed Aziraphale's cheek and sucked his fingers passionately.

"Believe me... just a moment of seeing that... will sustain me for weeks," Pira said, and from the reaction of his body, it was very, very true. His voice was raspy with how much the sight affected him. "You are so very beautiful. And so very fierce. You could tell me about your favourite equations, and I would find it as titillating as if you told me about what you wanted me to do. The..." little catches in his breath, "...t-thing is the... p-passion... you are.... erotic when you merely... describe the curves in an archway... what have you done to me?"

"Love you," said Corvoli simply and kissed Aziraphale's lips. "You look very bored when I'm talking about equations though... Be good for me, love, come."

"Liar," Aziraphale huffed. "I do not look bored. Not when it's an equation you're happy about." He chewed his lip, his hand moving over his cock, making a show of it. "C-can... I want to... come on your face....?"

"No," Tonino replied softly. "My mouth. Will it be good enough for you?"

Pira grabbed the arm of his chair, nearly doubling over in response to that, his thighs tightening. "Y-yeS PLEASE YES!"

Corvoli wasn't excited, wasn't hungry for it, but he had learned that being closer to Aziraphale paid off, his heart rejoiced in the proximity of his lover's pleasure, and so he calmly, far too calmly for Aziraphale's taste, took Pira's cock into his mouth, all the way through, until the tip hit the back of his throat, nuzzled at the coarse hair at the root and put his arms around Aziraphale's waist.

That was good. Aziraphale had little chance to thrust, enveloped so deeply, and he grabbed Tonino's head and shoulders to steady himself, finding the fierce, sure movements arousing. He nudged at Corvoli's chin and lips, chest aching, as he came rather faster than he would have planned. But it was good, and he was sitting back with a dazed, pleased expression. "...if you do that when I won't dress you, I'll refuse more often..."

Tonino pulled back and rather primly wiped his mouth with Aziraphale's napkin. "Don't. It was stressful. Not the... This," he gestured at Aziraphale. "We fought enough, I can't do it." He stood up, spotting an erection of his own. "Oh look, I'm hard. So distracting," he rolled his eyes and tried to return to his chair.

Aziraphale offered his hand to Tonino. "If you like, you can finish your breakfast in my lap, and I can finish your problem for you?"

"I want to be held and that's it. Please," Tonino bowed (and why would he bow to Pira? but he wanted to) and stopped in his tracks. "Just... Just hold me."

"Sit in my lap, and allow me to feed you?" he asked, as he carefully tucked himself away.

"Not hungry, angel," Tonino shook his head. "Hold me. I want to tell you something."

"Alright." Aziraphale tugged Tonino, moving him into place, sideways across his thighs so they could still look at one another. His hands wanted to reach for Tonino's lap, but he wouldn't, not without permission. "What is it, my love?"

"Remember I told you about the Tadfeld Abbey? It's in our Alps, about two days trip from here." Tonino clinged to Aziraphale and tried to avoid his eyes for once.

"...so this is the reason for your capricious mood," Aziraphale surmised. "Well: out with it!"

"The organ there... I want to move it to Vienna. I want to move the whole fucking church to Vienna, brick by brick. The acoustics there are unique, and it will take some time and meticulous planning to move the whole thing here. I need to oversee the beginning, mark the stones, make sketches of the building and take care of the organ, first and foremost. I'll have to leave you for two weeks. You are welcome to come with me, or you can stay and proceed with our wedding."

"...you... you want to  _ leave _ in the middle of our wedding plans? For - for two WEEKS?"

"Angel..." Tonino ran his fingers through Aziraphale's hair. "I need to do it. I want you to have it, to play it. It's the master of all organs, the absolute best there is, and I want it here. I dreamed of it when I was in Florence, but serving here in Austria, I can do it. We're musicians, Aziraphale, we're artists, well you're an artist, I'm a craftsman. We cannot be only about each other."

[MAziraphale turned his face away, his face fallen, his eyes sad. "You... I... I see." He didn't let go of him, but he was most assuredly no longer in a good mood, and felt a little taken advantage of. "Is that why you sucked me off?"

"Ehm... No." Tonino was genuinely puzzled. "Sucked you off because it is something you enjoy. Especially, I hope, when I do it. You can come with me... However little you like to travel, it might help you relax. Forget about all shades of pink etc."

"Forget-- how can I forget? You think I should not bother? That it's not important?" Oh, now Pira was in a snit. He huffed, and would have folded his arms if he didn't have a lap full of Tonino. "No. You will go on your own."

Tonino stood up. "As you wish, angel. I'll write to you every day. Three times." He winked. "And of course I'll miss you."

Didn't Corvoli care how angry Pira was? Couldn't he tell how incensed? "Very well."

"You're angry with me. You don't want me to go... I'm torn, angel. I want to stay by your side and I want to do something for you, to turn the world upside down, to move an ancient church from the Alps to Vienna, so that you could play in it. Please... Don't stay angry with me, alright? I will leave in two days. I'm at your service these two days. Won't show up at court, won't do a thing, unless you ask me. Will it help?"

Aziraphale's jaw wobbled over the emotions that somehow seemed to have all tried to cram into the place between his teeth, and the hinge of his skull. He was - so angry! So very angry. And hurt, more than anything, and he felt manipulated and used and afraid and nervous and all manner of things that a person shouldn't feel at breakfast. 

"I don't want you to go," Aziraphale sniffled. "And I know why you want to go, but I still don't want you to go! And - and I can't leave now, and then I felt like you... it was... I worried you had done what you did to try to make me more amenable... to... it felt like you were bribing me, almost..."

Tonino returned to Aziraphale's side and knelt between his legs. "Angel, love, when I bribe you, it's with food and into more music." He smiled and caressed Pira's cheek. "But regardless of anything, I want you happy, I want you safe and sated. I want..." He took Aziraphale's hand and pressed it to his lips. "I want the nearness of you, the intimacy, the privilege of being close to you, of knowing how you smell between your arse cheeks, how you taste in your armpits, how your eyes glow when we are together. I cherish it too much to use it for anything... Other than music. I think I'll write a suite about your arse alone. I mean... Another one."

Pira sniffled, mortified, but a little less incandescent. Maybe a few flames snuffed, rather than fanned. Aziraphale carded his fingers through bright hair and nodded. "It's... I suppose, it's... partially that I worry I... did that very thing, over the years. It meant so little to me that... doing it for a purpose was... it seemed like common sense, really. I'm sorry. I was just hurt. We have never been so long apart since you promised you were mine."

"I don't quite understand you, angel," Tonino frowned, puzzled. "I think you need some more... Tender care today, seeing as you're so upset." Tonino's fingers moved to open Aziraphale's waistcoat, then he untied his cravat and smiled seeing Aziraphale's pale chesthair and soft skin. "Would you like that?" Tonino moved to kiss Aziraphale's throat and slid down a bit, peppering Pira's chest with small careful pecks. "Would you feel better if I just... Indulge you some more?"

"I think... No. I think I would rather spend the day simply. With touching, but without intent, unless you feel a need you must satisfy."

Aziraphale's fingers kneaded the back of Tonino's neck. "Will you spend the day with me, doing only things you'd pick for yourself?"

"Absolutely." Tonino adjusted Aziraphale's clothes and licked his lips. "Delicious... I'm picking for myself everything you pick for us, otherwise we'd spend the day by the piano, and you'll be exhausted and angry, so you pick..." He paused looking up at Aziraphale tenderly, his usual bittersweet smile on his face. "Pick me, Aziraphale. Pick me."

"I already picked you, my tempest in a teacup," Pira said, with a warmer grin. And then he shuffled the body in his grip so he could recline. 

"I should have you tell me when you met this beautiful girl whose bellows and pipes you cannot forget. And what you heard her sing, and how she gives voice, so that we may create a fitting..." He startled. "Wait. Wait! Is... Is she to be our child? If so, she must not cry out in her new home until we are wed, or else we will have echoed the sins of our erstwhile fathers and made a love child of our own!"

"Aziraphale, are you referring to the organ of Tadfeld this way?" Corvoli looked quite shocked. "I'm not adopting a musical instrument. Answering your question, angel, it was Frescobaldi, and you'll be pleased to found that it was "Fiori musicali" and I played."

"She's our daughter, Tonino. If she means this much to you, then she's our child and I expect you to refer to her accordingly. After all, what else could you love enough to leave me for, but to repatriate our exiled child?"

"Pira, if we are to have a child, then they will be a child, and there is no way I'm referring to an old instrument, older than both of us combined, as our child." Tonino even frowned, his curious and puzzled frown that made him look angry.

"... Wait, you want an actual child?" That made Aziraphale startle.

"I can't tell you." Tonino stood up. "This is not a theme for a playful conversation, angel. If... If we have a child, then I'll inevitably have to spend at least a night sharing you with someone else. I remember you were very particular about your desire to be solely mine, and I fulfilled it. There's no going back for me, I'm afraid. There's no way I'm putting a woman through the torture of pregnancy and labour so that we can have a child. Do you really want to talk this through, angel? Do you think we could talk about it seriously?"

"Would they even have to be from our seed?" Pira asked, suddenly quiet. "There are many children who would love a home. A fosterling, or one we adopt... one whose parents are lost, who would be alone... but you're right. We shouldn't talk about this when you are about to leave."

"I want a child," Tonino replied unexpectedly fast. "I do, I really do. Whenever you want."

"And - alright. Okay. I... yes. Yes, my dear. We shall have a child. We - we shall!" Aziraphale clasped his hands to his mouth, and squeaked through them, then pushed harder and squeaked louder.

"Angel? Are you alright?"

"You just agreed to have a child with me, no, I'm not alright!"

"I... I didn't think you were... Interested. I'm dropping big objects on you all morning."

"Why wouldn't I be? Tonino, you SIT at the fortepiano and you do not leave until you have told me everything! Everything you want, and hope, and dream. No matter what you think I want, you tell me what  _ you _ want."

"Does it have to be by the fortepiano? I will be distracted and tempted to just, you know... Music everything away and... Can I sit on you?"

"...won't you be tempted to music everything away on me?"

"You might refuse, the piano is much more obliging..." Tonino smiled.

"...then do, but if I am suddenly moved to try to make you into my wife and get you with child already..." He winked, to show he was not serious, then held his arms wide. "Come. Tell me everything. No more of this 'later', or not saying. Tell me everything!"

Tonino moved back, but suddenly stopped and tilted his head to the side and asked, terribly honest, "I am enough for you, as I am, right? You wouldn't want me to be anything else, would you?"

"Anything else?" Pira tilted his own head. "You could be holding two glasses of champagne, but otherwise... you are as perfect as perfect is."

"Angel, it's morning." Tonino reminded and with a heavy sigh fetched a bottle of champagne and two glasses. "Shadwell looked at me as if I were mad! What is wrong? Fine, it's not chilled enough but other than that..." He brought Aziraphale his glass and climbed in his lap with his own. "Now. Where were we? Yes, everything I want. I want a family with you, whether it's just us or with children. I want to have home with you and in you. I want to play the piano with you, I want to compose with you. I want to wake up and fall asleep next to you. I want you to have everything you might possibly want. I want to be better for you. I want to, one day, fuck you. I want you to fuck me too, one day. I want to die in your arms. I want to meet you on the other side and be with you forever."

Yes, Aziraphale was crying, sniffling like the man of great emotion that he was. He watched Tonino's face as he spoke, a tiny tremor in his hand making it difficult to keep the champagne from spilling. Tonino looked like he was ready to explode, and Pira traced staves and half-formed stanzas over his lover's spindly legs. 

"Oh, you wonderful creature. You think I don't want these? You think I don't want all of this? My very, very precious darling! Are you quite sure there is no more? No desire to raise elephants and cross those Alps ourselves? No plans to summon down the moon to our pagoda? No army hidden, ready to march across the land?"

"I always preferred to sort out the conflict the wicked way of a true politician, with letters and wiles." Tonino kissed Aziraphale's forehead. "So... If we are so very happy, we can survive two weeks having each other only in dreams and letters?"

"...we... can. But I insist you first drown me in your affections, and you write to me every day, and you shall never leave me again after your pilgrimage. I know it is now your family name, but we must wander together." Aziraphale rested his head on Corvoli's shoulder, and sighed, full of longing. 

"Then let's get back to bed and we won't leave it until I go. We'll draw the curtains, it will be dark and cool. I will learn you by heart, and you will definitely learn me. Come," Tonino rose taking Aziraphale's hand and pulling him along. "I won't look back, angel," he muttered, "so I don't lose you."

"I will look nowhere but at your arse, until you give me your face again." Pira followed to his feet, his heart pattering like mad. "I want to watch you touch yourself, Tonino. I want you to come on me. I will not let you leave Vienna until you do."

"You'll have to put me into mood," replied Tonino. "And I might disappoint you all the same."

"You will not. You never have, not once. You have done nothing but exceed my expectations and raise the bar with every single day." Pira leaned forwards to nip at Tonino's earlobe. "If it takes me all day, I will ensure you can't wait to give me what I ask you for."

"Do what you must," Tonino replied as they stepped inside their bedroom. Immediately Corvoli pushed Aziraphale into the door and kissed him. He was still learning, still forgetting to tilt his head and was struggling with the noses and teeth and was completely oblivious to that.

The enthusiasm was the key, the openness and willingness. Technique, well. He'd been kissed by courtesans and courtiers and the implementation may have been more polished, but the sheer connection had not. Aziraphale lifted his hands, gently guiding Tonino into a better angle, opening his mouth when things slotted just so.

There was it, and in hindsight, it was so simple Tonino was ashamed of his own stupidity. But that could wait. His angel's warm mouth and clever hands, however, couldn't. Tonino tried to undress Pira skillfully and failed spectacularly. He groaned in frustration feeling lost and definitely alien to the whole situation, no matter how many times they'd been through this.

Pira paused the kisses, to nudge his nose against his lover's, and peck at his smile. "Take your time. I want to feel your fingers. You aren't leaving yet, we have all day."

"And two more..." Tonino reminded. "I... Need to calm down, right? I can do it, I can..." He meticulously undid all the buttons, apparently counting them as he went. He helped Aziraphale out of his clothes while remaining entirely sure he didn't need to undress himself, so that in the end he laid his love on the bed and crawled over him still fully dressed, and began kissing down Aziraphale's neck.

"My most delicious sybarite, do you not think I might also like to see?" Pira giggled, and pushed him back just a little. "Undress for me. As you would want me to do for you."

Tonino rose to his knees and took a long look at Aziraphale. "Like I'd want you to?" He pulled off his cravat and tossed it. He fumbled with his shirt and took it off slowly. 

He stood up and undid his pants and, the skinny old flamingo he was, he managed to take both the pants and the stockings balancing on one leg and apparently not bothered by the softness of the bed which had to make him lose said balance but didn't. "Better?" He stood, proud and golden, arms akimbo.

The grin said very much so. Absolutely. Aziraphale's hands were above his betrothed's knees, keeping Tonino steady, and a look of indulgent fondness made Tonino's eyes dance like stars in a running, moon-lit river. "Yes," Aziraphale breathed. "As you like to watch me, I like to watch you. Focus on my face, on my voice. Watch me. Talk to me. See how much you move me, simply by existing. If my pleasure is what pleases you, then simply  _ watch _ , and you shall see how greatly you affect me."

"What should I do?" Tonino knelt down again straddling his lover. "Tell me please..."

"Hold your hair back, and run your fingers down your throat, over your chest... let me see the blood blush your skin..."

"It won't though..." Tonino replied but dutifully did what Aziraphale asked. "I wish it was you," he said, sadly.

"It is me," Aziraphale said, reaching up to touch his fingertips to the back of Tonino's hand, to chase the gesture down. "It's me. I'm here. I'm racking my eyes over you. Watch me. I'm here, with you. You're doing this for me."

"Alright. What's next, angel?" He sounded bored.

The smile kept the high edges, but the middle of it fell as Pira tried to be brave. "All this time, and I still can't understand you enough to help. I'm supposed to know how to..."

Tonino stopped unenthusiastically touching himself. "Angel, I'm not ill, I'm not in trouble, so I don't need help. It is very important to me that you understand that you're my lover and not my healer. Tell me you do." He demanded leaning towards Aziraphale and cupping his face.

"It just - I know... that you manage just fine, it's... don't you feel frustrated that I'm not capable of..." Aziraphale flickered his eyes down, then up. "It makes me worry I am an inadequate lover, that you are so able to reach inside of me, and yet, I selfishly take, and cannot..." He bit down on his lip. "I'm sorry, Tonino. This is my problem, and not yours. I have dreams of being... better for you."

"You are perfect for me." Tonino smiled and kissed behind Pira's ear. "You are absolutely, annoyingly, maddeningly perfect for me." A kiss behind the other ear. "We oscillate differently." A kiss on the nose. "You do minutes, I do hours." A kiss and a bite on Aziraphale's chin. "Angel..." Tonino took Aziraphale's right hand and placed it under his remotely interested cock, then put his own left hand over so that their hands formed a clam. He swayed his hips slowly. "Like this."

"I just want you to be as happy as I can," Pira whimpered, his expression like water shifting under the breeze. "When - what - what is it, do you know? When do you react? I wish to learn the secret, so I may find your drum and beat it..."

Tonino thrust harder and bit his lip. He laced his fingers through Aziraphale's and thrust again. "Us... Together... Works." He growled. "Fuck. Don't let go of my hand, ever."

"I won't." Aziraphale sounded awed, reverent, and he danced the fingers of his other hand across his chest. "You are so beautiful. And I don't just mean physically. My love, can't you see how deeply you move me? How could you ever not be enough? You are everything, and my only fear is losing you."

"Your other hand on my bum and sit up," Tonino ordered, concentrated and serene, as his thrusts became quicker and stronger. 

Suddenly he halted. "No. Get the oil, I don't care how you do it, just don't let go of my hand. Put some between my cheeks. I can feel you're hard. With your other hand hold your cock between my cheeks."

He did realise he was asking the impossible? Pira reached over - one leg waggling for balance as he tried not to topple or let go - and his cheeks were puffed when he did get back. "You're demanding, but I adore you. Don't change," he insisted. His attention split was difficult, but he did as asked, and settled back down, urging hips into place. "Tonino... will you ride me? Will you ride me as we stroke you together? I want to see how much you do want this... please?"

Tonino smirked and thrust so hard Aziraphale almost toppled over, but Corvoli caught him by the shoulder. "That was the idea." He resumed his thrusts, hard and unrelenting, his lip bleeding where he bit it, his eyes fiercely attentive. "I like that it's dry. I shouldn't but I like it... Fuck. You bloody fucking love of my life... Fuck!"

"Oh! Oh... I never need be inside you, not if you do that... I am already deeper within you than I ever could be..." He looked dazed, and he caught his face, demanding eye-contact all the while. His other pushed his thumb up and over the place the tip kept breaching their grip, and squeezed harder. "My darling! You are so hard for me! Oh, you precious gift! Oh, don't stop! Please do not stop!"

Tonino winced and bit his tortured lip again. "I... Feel quite lost again. Like our first... First time." He looked around, shook his head reminding himself where he was. His thrusts didn't stop but turned somewhat mechanical. "Ask me to... To come for you. I can't bear it, it's too... Too much. I'm fucking falling apart here for you... Ask me to come, like you ask for things..."

Aziraphale didn't, not immediately. Instead, he held Tonino's back, surging, and threw him down onto his own, legs spread, and his oil-slick cock was suddenly pushing into their joined fists, thrusting against Tonino's, wet and hard and warm. "No, no, come with me instead. Come on my prick, come in my hand, let me fuck it out of you," he begged, ordered, both, neither. "Tonino... please! Please come with me!"

Tonino looked even more lost and for a moment, even angry and scared. "What... I... Aziraphale..." He shut his eyes, squeezing the tears out. "Please... I'm scared... Tell me you love me and will take care of me."

Pira pushed up to kiss his mouth, hard and loving, his voice breaking. "I love you. I love you so much! I adore you, I - I - nothing matters but you, but you happy, but you with me, being mine - no matter what it is, I love you, I love you! Tell me to stop and I will stop! Darling, please!"

"Don't... No, don't stop... Don't stop." Tonino was properly delirious now. "Don't fucking stop... What are you doing to me? You snatched... Snatched myself from me... I am an idiot... I think. Am I not? Fuck, angel... Love, no!" He came heavily over their joined hands and collapsed sobbing on Aziraphale's chest.

It was always something... almost painful, this. To take him from himself so fully, to make him lose control. Aziraphale held out as long as possible, enjoying the sounds and look... but when he felt the release explode, it was more than he could handle, and he carried on stroking them both, until their seed mixed between their fingers, and he wrapped himself fiercely around him, squeezing like he might blow away if he didn't. "My boy, my boy, I love you, I'm sorry, I love you so much! I'm sorry, forgive me!"

Tonino continued sobbing but he regained sufficient control over his body to put one hand on Aziraphale's face smearing their mixed seed over his love's skin. "Messy... Sorry... Don't do this to me like that, angel. Whatever you want but only after you warned me. I... I need to focus, I need to know what... What we're doing. Otherwise... I'm lost." He lifted his head and carefully licked Aziraphale's cheek. "It... It was good though. In hindsight. Completely... Mind-blowing." He was calming down, although his breath was still heavy. "I love you, you bastard. Love you so much," he kissed Aziraphale's lips, again hopelessly messy and unaware of their noses.

"I'm sorry, I just - I wanted to... I wanted to make you come, I wanted... I will try better, I am sorry... you were so - I needed you so very badly! I try..." Pira turned, kissing Tonino better, and then grinned and licked at his lips. "We taste good together. I have made such a mess of you. You should let me clean you." He was coy, looking from under his lashes. "I showed you how it is for me, when - when I can't hold back."

"Alright, go, suck my dick. But look at me." He was smiling.

Pinning him down, he took another kiss, then started to slide down backwards over him, his bare arse up, wiggling like a tiger in reverse. "Are you sure? You won't kick me out of bed if I take your delicious treat in my mouth? Shall I just lick?"

"Angel... Do something... I'm dead. And dramatic... Ooohh, it tickles!" Tonino dissolved into unashamed giggling as Pira's hair touched his inner thighs.

"You monster," Aziraphale laughed, and deliberately rubbed his hair against his legs, then took his cock to hold it still and start to lap delicately.

Tonino burst out laughing. He wriggled and squirmed trying to stop himself from indeed kicking Pira off the bed. "Angel... Angel... Wh... How... It tickles so much!"

"You are terrible!" Pira complained, though not angrily. He kept him held down, hands on his hips, as he lifted to just lap at his shaft, trying to not tickle him (until he was done... when all bets were off).

"Ev... Everything tickles... Aziraphale, stop! Is... Is it how you feel when I suck you?.. aaaargh... Tickles!"

Aziraphale lifted his head. "Normally, I am still turned on, so the tickling is less intense." He ran his fingers up and down the inside of his thighs, now being evil. "So you're no longer disgusted if I try to gulp you down?"

"I will kick you, angel, and I will not be responsible for it..." Tonino choked on his laughter. "Please, angel, come here, come to me."

"I think I missed a spot..." Which was when Pira dove in, put his head between Tonino's thighs, took a ball in his mouth and blew a messy raspberry over it.

Tonino squirmed most violently and indeed kicked Aziraphale off the bed. "Fuck, angel, are you alright?" He sat up, worried.

Pira landed on his ass, and - after a moment to catch his breath - started to howl in amusement. "You absolute bastard!"

"Nah, not anymore." Corvoli pulled Aziraphale up. "I'm a bonafide Pellegrini now. Angel, I deserve a hug. I indulged you in every way possible."

"Well. For now you did," Pira said, moving in to snuggle as close as he could. "But I shall want more indulgences later. Comes with marrying an angel, I'm afraid..." He grabbed the skinny ass, and rubbed his hair into Tonino's cheek. And then - well - maybe he tickled him again.

***

My dearest angel, 

I hope you are well and too busy to miss me. Did you find any more types of cherries? Is there an even pinker shade of pink?

I love you and I'm thinking of you all the time. You inspire me, like no one ever has. 

I know you, and oh angel, it's the sweetest knowledge… You wouldn't want me to be poetic, though, not now. So, here is your little evening treat. Do me a favour and smudge your seed over your letter, so I have a proof I've pleased my dearest one. 

I want you to lie in our bed, naked and warm, after a bath. Don't you dare touch your precious cock when you're bathing! I'll smell the soap, if you do. I'll know. 

Run your clever fingers up and down your cock, just the fingertips, pretend it's me. I want you to do it exactly eight times. Are you moaning and squirming already, my love? Is your breath faster? Is there that lovely sheen of sweat over your brow and shoulders and chest? Save some for me, please.

Now, for the real fire, grab your dick and fuck your fist like you're dying for it, which I think you do. Take my pillow, smell it, feel me there with you. Think it's me holding you and kissing your hair and caressing your beautiful wide shoulders. 

However fast you're moving, I want you to move even faster and then stop just before you come. Touch yourself slowly now, very, very slowly. 

And come.

Was it good for you, darling? I love you so much, you clever, brilliant thing, my heart. 

Play something for me. Have a look at that Moliere's play I brought you. It's far too moralistic, my love, so make it naughtier for me, for both of us. I'm no Don Juan, you're the only one for me, angel, but I want this opera to be both as bitter as I am and as sweet as you are. Love you, angel. Love you so much, my dear heart, my precious glutton, my generous lover. 

Anything you'll ask me to do, I will. Stay safe, stay warm and comfortable. Remember that I don't mind anything you do for our wedding. I want you mine by the end of it, I want you naked and moaning on our wedding night. I'm sending you something I wrote for you. Make it ours, make it beautiful. 

Yours,

Tonino

***

My wicked boy,

How can you say you do not understand the art of love, when you are so clearly its master? I did as you asked. And then I was bad, and before I could clean myself, I performed your actions (post-bath) all over again. 

I have perfumed this letter in return, and decorated it internally as you desired. I have also smeared examples of all the cherries one could ever wish to sample, and written a little limerick about making the tip of your cock match each one. Please see below, where I have also added the next section to your delicious opening.

Speaking of delicious openings, I have started our suggested gift registry. And I have also created a second one, which is obviously not for others to see, and is for your eyes only. Should you be so inclined, I would rather like if you visit the shop I mentioned, and bring me back something which resembles your appendage. 

It will not be as good, but I will enjoy it, still.

Tell me, dear, do you sleep without me? I can smell you in our bed, but the dip where your skinny arse would lie is cold and empty. I confess I tried to fill it, and I cried for the first two nights, and then on the third I was a prig and drank myself silly by the fortepiano and wrote a lament for your absence. I forgot most of it as I was very intoxicated, but what I recall I include below. Please ignore the melodramatic comments and pictures of your arse, which are much better recollected. 

The plans are all progressing, but without you to tell them to, they are quite frightfully depressing. And mostly, everything is depressing. I say this not to chastise or chide you for your trip, but to encourage your alacrity of return.

If it was not plain, I need you here, in my arms, in my bed, and in my heart. 

Even Sandalphon paid me a social call. I suspect they have all been told to play nice and occupy the madman with the missing Florentine. I tried very hard to be a good host, but mostly I wished I could recline and be wafted with fans until he left me in peace. 

You are an absolute beast and I demand you return to my side at your earliest convenience. Sooner, if possible. Or else next time, you shall have to take me with you, for I will not remove my person from your ankles. 

Yours in agony,

Pira

***

My delicious darling, 

Thank you for your generous gift. I cried bitter tears over the way you drew my arse. So little for you to grab, so carefully pictured… How can such a disappointment inspire you to so much tenderness?

I hoped for you to be bad, a bit. I would not tolerate it though. The instructions I'm sending you today I want you to follow most faithfully.

It's hilarious and terrific that the  _ shop  _ that can make a copy of my  _ appendage  _ is situated so near to the blessed fucking Abbey. I bet your high arseholeness of a brother is pissed with me. I'm proud of you to have secured your mother's wholehearted approval so swiftly. The Pope is the champion of education and knowledge, so I had no doubt she'd approve of my frankly mad enterprise, but it felt comforting to receive it and through you, no less. My dearest one, I don't deserve you.

I did some research (you'd love the library here, it's remarkable - and has such detailed works on buggery, I was laughing like the demon I am when I found them) and since I'm sending you the copy of the only part of me you seem to be obsessed about, I want you to do the following. 

First, think of me. Think of me as you'd want me to be or as I am, your pick. Think of me.

Second, take a bath. Make it the most indecently luxurious bath in your life. And think of me. You may touch yourself, but only if you think of me. Don't limit yourself to your cock, though, play with your nipples too and caress your inner thighs. 

Third, when you are done with bathing, I want you to rub oil of your choice all over your body, everywhere you can reach, especially your arse. I want it all oiled even before you do anything to your hole. I do miss kissing it. 

Fourth, lie down, my love. Think of me, don't ever stop thinking of me, angel. Turn on your left side, bend up your right leg. Caress your cleft, then slowly, slowly, angel, slowly rub a finger against your anus. I hope you brought that oil with you… you might use your favourite that you keep by the bed. It is really up to you. 

I've almost forgotten. Take my well made dick and put it next to your lips. I want you to cover it in your saliva, then rub oil generously over it. 

Where was I? Are you thinking of me? 

Open yourself carefully, I trust you to know where your prostate is. You may touch it, just don't make yourself come. My lovely, soft, well oiled, well prepared angel… once you're all nice and ready, take my dick up your arse. Do it gently, don't hurt yourself. When the blessed thing is all the way in, I want you to stop and just let it rest inside you. Get used to it, love.

I want you to think of me. Remember?

Fuck yourself with my cock, fuck yourself silly. I want you to come from this alone, no touching. 

If you're comfortable, I want you to leave my cock inside you for a bit more after you came. you take it out, clean it with my scarlet scarf, the one I bought for your pleasure, and send it to me. You can use my  _ appendage  _ as much as you want after that but only if you think of me. It's my dick after all. I would advise you use it once every few days, but you're the master of your body. I wouldn't like you to be all sore and unable to sit while I'm not there to kiss your arse better. 

I love you, angel. I'll be back soon.

Yours,

Tonino.

***

My darling,

You are WICKED! You are devilish and divine, all in one! You are the most perfect thing to ever be created. You are from the peaks of Olympus and the depths of Tartarus. You are the best thing to ever happen to me in my whole life. I adore you. Even without the rampant sexual attraction. I love you.

You do know you could write to me of the quality of the stone in your blasted building, the sediment and metamorphic, the echo in the walls, the ghosts that follow you… the cold in the floor and the damp in the toes of your socks… you could write to me of the dry cake and wet biscuits, and I would love you. And to be honest, I would be able to pleasure myself to the thought of you grumpy by the fire, with that twist of your lips and your smart, smart nose. 

I have included your scarf. I have included a handkerchief of my own. If you do not feel the need to touch yourself, I would like for you to wear it in your breast pocket to take the heat of your body, the beat of your heart, and the scent of your day. Then you will send it back to me, and I will fill it with my own seed.

I used your appendage. Oh, did I ever.

I used it all night long. I imagined looking over my shoulder, and seeing your face. You were so serious, so very curious. You told me you wanted to catalogue my responses, and to memorise how I pleased myself. You wanted to watch me, and the way my face looked, all torrid and florid and--

It makes more sense now, than it did at the time. If you had but seen me, I was a mewling, desperate mess. I wanted you with me, my darling. I needed your eyes on me, and as I pushed your appendage inside me, all I could think was how I needed you. How the shape of you was good, and the thought of you imagining me was better, but how I needed the weight of you behind me, in the bed.

I admit I wept. I wept, as my body responded, but my heart reached out for you. It felt as if it were my first time all over again, as if none had ever reached inside of me, and they hadn’t. My body, yes, but not my core. 

It was firm, and so I was careful. I did not wish to hurt myself. You filled every inch of me, and I pinched my hips as if you were holding me to take me. You hit me so roughly that my thighs shook and you told me my arse was your favourite, and - and I thought about your tongue on my rim. 

I found my release, and I cuddled your pillow, and I begged the Lord to send you back to me. I wished you were there, to kiss my shoulders, to run fingers over my cheeks. I held as tightly with my rump as I could. I held you as I ached, and lay in the mess I had made. I missed you, my dear. I missed you. 

I miss you.

Please come home, as soon as you can. I need to feel you inside of me, or at the very least, to be there when I do this. 

It is punishment to try without you. I was a fool, and I would rather poke needles into my prick hole than try to do this without you. I love you. 

Come back. Hear my siren call, and return to me, my wandering minstrel. No more Odysseying your way across the world. Sing all of your adventures, and lull me to my rest. 

Court is dull without you. If I go another day, I may not make it out in one piece.

Yours longingly,

Pira

***

My darling love,

I wish I could say I am sorry for making you miss me so, but instead I am happy I could bring you pleasure even from afar. 

I am sorry however for forgetting myself and teasing you without mercy or remorse. I'm sorry I can't feel it the way you do, that need… I'm kissing your bright blue eyes and your lovely nose and your beautiful, smart mouth. 

I tried touching myself, for the sake of your handkerchief. I wanted to give myself to you, but it meant nothing without your warm and clever touch, without your face over mine. So I carried it with me for a full day, I used it to wipe the sweat off my brow and I wish I could give you something more, something else. I thought you wouldn't want my blood, so I'm not sending you any. Blood is a peculiar juice, isn't it? That colour, that lively colour, that pumping, that steady flowing through all of our bodies. Were I but a jug of wine in your hand, were I but wine (same lively colour, different shade) to enter you and flow inside and make you dizzy and giggling, my love.

I want to kiss your arse better, I want my tongue on your rim, I want to touch you inside. 

Speaking of inside. 

Tadfeld is a damp little place with beautiful orchards. The building I am trying to move is, at a guess, late Romanesque. Its foundation is a three-aisled Basilica. The walls are thick, the masonry is simple, double shells filled with rubble. The windows are small and narrow. They seem to be striving for Gothic but get lost midway. 

The organ is remarkable, angel… It's a swallow's nest organ, relatively small, tucked in the northern wall of the nave, like your handkerchief under my shirt. I wish I could touch you the way I touch its keys and caress its pipes. The way it sings, though… This is you, my love. This is you as I saw and heard you for the first time, this is you at your best, your most unhinged, your most inspired.

The church, right. There's a lovely Rose window, so many shades of blue and pink, I begin to understand you and your frustration over colours for our wedding.

The barrel vaults made me think of you. I look up at that smooth ceiling and you know what I think about? I think about your body. I enter this chapel as if I were entering you. I look up and I see your walls, and when I miss you so much I can't bear it, I can see the whole structure trembling. What does it make me if I see you in the architecture of a church? What does it make me if everything I see is a metaphor for us? 

I want you to touch yourself and pleasure yourself and fuck yourself and be happy, angel. I'm wrapping up my work tonight. I had to mark the stones myself and I barely slept, so that I could come back to you as soon as possible. I worked like fucking Michelangelo, on my back, pressed to the ceiling and marking each fucking stone, although I taught my assistants the system I came up with, although they are younger and more eager and far too excited to do something as preposterous as to move the entire building… I took the organ out first thing. It's already on the way to Vienna. 

Play something for me. Think of me. I want my lips on you, I want my mouth on you, I want that moment when we are both naked and kiss each other. I want the intimacy all those activities provide me with. I might be lost and broken and see your gut in the church vaults but I love you with everything I am, angel. 

Please, be happy and know that I'm doing everything to come back to you. I love you.

Yours, and yours only,

Tonino

  
  
  



	7. Coda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: sex and buckets and buckets of happy tears

Tonino didn't plan it but he definitely loved the idea of surprising his angel with his early return. He tortured his horses, changed them for more than was strictly necessary and hurt most dreadfully in his buttocks from so much riding. 

He swiftly ran up the stairs. 

"Angel?" He called in a loud whisper. "Aziraphale?"

Aziraphale was in bed, half asleep and grumpy, and he'd heard imagined Tonino's for over a week. So he grumped and pulled the covers over his head and burrowed down deeper.

"Aziraphale? Where are you, angel?" Tonino walked through the sitting room and the library and gently pushed the door to their bedroom. "Love? Are you asleep?"

Pira's hair poked out first, followed by two wide eyes. "Is it really you?"

"It is me, angel," Tonino laughed quietly and stepped inside. "I'm all... Wet and dirty. The roads are terrible, what with all those rains..." He shuffled. There were puddles of mud under his feet. Aziraphale was going to get oh so fussy about the carpets...

Tonino was immediately wrapped in a duvet, then the angel who had been below it, as he flung himself at his lover. 

"YOU WILL CATCH YOUR DEATH OF COLD! Strip! We must warm you up at once!"

"Aziraphale... Oh, angel, I missed you. I soiled your carpets. Now your duvet too. You'll hate me in a minute." Tonino couldn't help himself and pecked Pira on the lips. "Let me undress and I'll join you..."

"Nonsense, I will simply buy more. I can't buy another you." Pira scrubbed at his hair, fussing furiously. "Did you ride all night? Did you eat?"

"I rode for several days, my love. Was worried sick you'd fuck yourself to death," Tonino kissed Aziraphale again. "Couldn't stay away from you for much longer too... You're so pale, love. Are you alright? I begged you not to sleep with the candles lit... You scare me."

"I couldn't touch myself since my last letter to you, it hurt too much to know you were away, I couldn't, I couldn't," Aziraphale rubbed him over the sides, over the back. "I'll get them to draw you a bath and make you some food, my dear boy, ignore me, ignore the candles, let me make sure you are alright!"

"I'm fine, angel! Stop... Stop your lovely fussing. I don't want you to wake anyone. Let me undress, I..." Tonino closed his eyes gathering his thoughts. "I want to... I want to be inside you. I... I'm afraid I'm jealous of my own fucking cock... Oh... Silly me, you must be sleepy and... I'll undress and join you, we'll sleep together..." He was deliciously interrupted.

Aziraphale did not have an issue with where noses should go. He knew precisely, and his tongue was half way down his betrothed's throat before he knew what he was doing. 

A quick hand to Tonino's crotch went to check, the other regretting the bedding scroll because it made stripping harder. "If you don't claim me right now, and tell me not even your own cock gets to steal me, I will scream until all of Vienna thinks you are murdering me!"

"But I'm not murdering you," Tonino pulled back, questioning look on his face. "I... I want you to... To be happy. I missed you so! Your warmth..." He began undressing himself, which was mostly peeling the wet clothes off of his shaking body. "I'll... I'll put these by the fire..?"

"Burn them! Burn everything! You're the only thing that matters, and I have missed you so very damn much!" Pira decided to help, flinging fabrics aside. "When we're married we shall burn everything and start over! Indeed, new linen every day! Just... Tonino, you came HOME!"

"Of course I did! What else would I do? Where else would I go if not to you? I didn't write about it to you, but I had nightmares again, sleeping without you..." Ignoring the dirt on his hands Tonino took Pira's face and managed to find the right angle to kiss him slowly and sweetly on the lips. "I am not that... I don't make much sense without you anymore... Lie down for me, angel. Lie down on your stomach, I have to kiss your arsehole better before I... I hope I will manage..." He chuckled nervously. "I was... I was preparing myself during my ride and... I wanted to make it... Special and lovely for you. Wanted to surprise you and... It was much better in my head. I forgot about the mud and the cold and..." He sneezed. "Sorry. Where were we?"

"You silly, obtuse angle," Pira chuckled, wiping his nightshirt sleeve over his cheek. "I will. But only if you let me turn back and look at you. If you are to do this, I need to watch you. Need to know it means as much to you." One hand pressed over Tonino's heart, Aziraphale's eyes soft as clouds in spring. "And if you can't, then you can use the gift, or you can kiss me and tell me about your tomb, and I shall be the luckiest man in all of Europe. In all of the world."

"Hey I read much about buggery. Can't you be... On your back? Or ride me? I'm afraid I'm a very old and tired horse, but... It's possible, right?" Tonino peeled the last of his clothes off himself and held Aziraphale close and tight. "Missed you... Your smell, your annoying habits, your pout, your warmth... Want to crawl inside you and never leave. Make me small, play me the tiniest tune ever, make me a bug, make me into my own cock, I so want to be... To be one with you."

"I can. But I want to watch you as you kiss my hole, too. It hurt to try to use it without you, but I'm afraid the greatest pain was in my soul... I can wrap my legs around you like a bride, I can sit astride you like my horse, but much more fun... I can do whatever you want, when you enter me at last." 

Aziraphale lay down, grabbing a pillow to lift himself, taking the oil bottle and putting it on the very messy bed. How right that this should be how they try. Muddy, exhausted, unplanned, and magnificent. 

"Take me, Tonino. I'm only ever yours, no matter what you do."

Tonino smiled, first mischievous, then wistful. "Of course, angel." He surged forward grabbing Aziraphale's thighs and burying his face in Pira's crotch. He licked down his perineum, then suddenly put Pira's legs over his shoulders and licked into him. "Missed you, missed you, missed you so much, you fucking menace."

Which made Pira bite into a pillow and howl, despite himself, his toes curling and his thighs clenching. 

"DON'T STOP! OH! I missed you so much I put every letter in my pillow and kissed it every night and wept because you were not here! Never leave me again! Never!"

Tonino dutifully and tenderly licked and laved pushing his tongue inside and swirling it there. 

He was drooling and tried pushing a finger into Aziraphale's hungry hole. "Alright, angel?"

A little yelp - absolutely not pained - was the response, before Aziraphale could gather his wits enough to answer. "Darling... darling, I need to touch you, too. Please... let me?"

"How the hell can you touch me if I'm here?" Tonino was puzzled one moment and dove back with his wicked tongue and even more wicked finger, the next.

"I - OH OH! Wait! Let... let me turn... I promise I won't try to tickle you... let me kiss between your legs as you keep on doing that... oh..." His hips flexed as he tried to work himself onto the touch. "Please, Tonino, light of my life, don't STOP."

"I don't understand," Tonino looked very confused... Then Aziraphale's face was between his legs, and he didn't even notice the shift, the way Aziraphale scooted around and pushed him around, so that Corvoli could still feast on Aziraphale's hole, as Pira greedily kissed his belly and took his cock into that wet, welcoming mouth. "Angel... Oh love... I didn't know I was so cold... Yes... Darling. Warm me, suck me in, suck me in," he surged up to stick his tongue back into Aziraphale's anus moaning and kneading Aziraphale's arse.

That was better, so much better. He had a mouth full of dick - hard enough for sure - and he moaned in pleasure, trying not to fuck his rump onto the other's face too much. He stroked firmly behind his balls, kneading where he knew would make his thighs feel it, hefting his balls and feasting himself silly.

Tonino felt strange, as he always did when they made love, but that was new, that intimacy, Aziraphale's insatiable arse above him, so he could kiss it, so he could cover his fingers in his own spit and push them in along with his tongue. 

It hurt Tonino in the sweetest way, to love Aziraphale so much, to bring him pleasure, to taste him. He was barely aware of Pira's lips on his own dick, but caressing Aziraphale's hole and kneading his arse and touching his balls and his pink dick, that was a pleasure he didn't know he might enjoy. His love, his heart moaned and groaned above him getting harder by the minute, and Tonino doubled his efforts, two fingers in already, careful, wet, while he couldn't get enough of Pira's hole, jealous of anything and anyone who touched it before him.

A deeper whine, all the way in Pira's throat as he scratched his feet into the sheets, aching and tensing. It was wonderful, so wonderful, and he nearly choked on the cock he was suckling because of that. More than any toy could be, or his own fingers, or anything else. Inside, where he was soft, where he was delicate, where his walls clutched and tensed and longed. 

The shaft fell from his lips, panting, as he tried so very hard to stay still enough. "M-my dear... my dear, please... please will you make love to me? I - I need you so very badly to be inside of me. Please... I will do anything you ask, I promise, I will burn every scrap of fabric I see and turn it all to black if it's what you w-want, just - please!"

Tonino climbed out from under Aziraphale's body and softly but insistently turned him over so that Pira ended up on his back. "Oil!" Demanded Tonino and held his hand out.

Said oil was given without a moment's hesitation, wide, agonisingly hungry blue eyes peering up at him.

Tonino covered his member in oil, and pushed inside Aziraphale. "Oh darling..." He wept. "No holy ground compares to you..." His mouth was wide open, his hands searched to grab Aziraphale's skin, anywhere, anyhow, just ground himself as he started to thrust. "Love... Oh love... Is it good for you? Is it pleasant?" Tonino bent down to kiss Aziraphale's eyes. "Are you alright? You don't look alright... I love you... Am I doing everything right?"

Two (not so skinny) legs wrapped up and around Tonino's waist, as Pira bent and made himself as open as possible, and his head fell back into the pillow as the tingle of it spread wider through him, washing up and down his spine. It was - it was. It had never been like this, never felt like this. His mouth dropped open as he tried to process the sensations, and he realised he'd been utterly rude. His arms flung around Tonino's shoulders, and Pira laughed, the sound more musical than anything he'd ever replicate on staves. "Oh  _ yes _ . More than right. Oh, oh, Tonino... do you love this? Do you like this? You're so firm, so... OH, I can feel you all the way to my teeth!"

Tonino kissed Aziraphale's cheek. "It feels hot, angel, warm, comforting, safe... But most of all it feels so good to see your face so lost in pleasure. Fuck, I love you so much. Darling..." He thrust in, hard and calm, his gaze greedy, jealous and fierce. He seemed to breathe in Aziraphale's moans, was quick to repeat any movement that made his angel scream louder.

And all the while Tonino's own cock, his body was enveloped in the welcoming, scorching heat of Aziraphale's body. He wasn't cold anymore, wasn't lost, he felt nothing but Aziraphale's pleasure, and so he kept thrusting praising Pira for every sound he made.

Pira thought he'd never be fucked again, and - well - it had been fine. Of course it was better to have every option available, but he had made his choice for Tonino, and whatever they could do with one another. He'd never, ever thought he'd be thrown on his back by a wild selkie, come in from the mountains, windswept and determined. Or incubus? Some spirit, some mad thing. He clawed his fingers into Tonino's back, urging him deeper, forgetting that his wailing would wake the whole household. His Tonino was home, was fucking him, was inside of him, loving him. His hair was pushed the wrong way, kisses all over his face, his hips and spine and thighs urging him ever deeper, ever faster. The tug at his rim was perfect, but the way his whole insides spread and stretched and were bathed in heat... "You must come inside of me! You must! Darling, my love - OH FUCK FUCK  _ FUCK _ !"

Tonino chuckled softly. "Can't promise that, angel... But tell me when you're close, so I can scoot down and suck you dry... I will try to come inside you... I will... And if I can, I'll suck my come out of you and bring it to your lips... But I can't promise that, my angel, I'm sorry." Tonino doubled his efforts, his head eventually dropped on Aziraphale's shoulder as he did his best to bring Aziraphale as close to the brink and preferably over as he could.

Pira's hands clasped behind Tonino's head, but then they were down his shoulders, onto his back, his ass, back up - anywhere as he tried to encourage him. He was tightening and working his hips as best he could, trying to give Tonino the best fuck he'd ever be able to get, trying to do everything he could to bring them both to the edge of bliss. 

"I'll - I'll come from just you fucking me," Aziraphale whimpered. "Please. I want to. I want to come on your cock." His fingers grabbed hold of scrawny ass, as he hammered his head into the pillows. "I'm - I'm close! Tell me you love me! Tell me why you rode home! Tell me you love to fuck me, please! Ppppl-EASE!"

"I love you, angel. I rode restlessly for three days just to get back to you, just to have and hold you again... Love... Love... Love you, my sweet angel ... Fuck, it's falling apart all over again... But I'll fall apart for you." Tonino kissed Pira. "I'll die for you. Fuck... Oh angel... No, no, no, if I die now... Love you, everything is you... Fuck!" Tonino fell on Aziraphale's chest trembling. His cock pulsed inside Aziraphale, and all those treaties on buggery commanded him to keep moving but he couldn't. "Sorry... Sorry angel... Fucked it all up... I'm sorry!"

"TONINO!" Aziraphale grabbed Tonino's ass, and ground as hard as he could onto him, squirming to push into his belly, to take the friction he needed. The release inside of him was beautiful, was wonderful, and it was beyond easy to follow him into his own. "I love you I love you I love you!"

Tonino let out something akin both to a sob and a laugh. "You... You alright, angel? Was it good?" He lifted his head and looked at Aziraphale. "Was good? Was worth the wait? I don't know when I can do something like this again... Was it good? You look rather... Fucked out." He laughed and bit Aziraphale's nose.

Pira's legs tightened, then flopped, as he fell bonelessly to the bed. "If you can manage that every ten years I'll be fucked more thoroughly than I ever have been in my life," he purred, squirming his hips in delight at the feeling of being so full, so damp. "Oh... thank you, thank you darling... was - was... did you like it, too?"

"I definitely love your face," Tonino kissed Aziraphale's lips, cheeks, forehead, neck. "I love pleasing you. Nothing compares to it." He kissed Aziraphale on the lips again, apparently finally managing to understand how to tilt his head, so for a while he was fully focused on Aziraphale's lips and mouth. "Perfect. You taste perfect, your arse, your lips... Perfect. Now, for the real fire. Am I going to wear that ridiculous outfit you picked for me? Or can I just be my boring self?" He didn't wait for the answer and bit and sucked at Aziraphale's neck and then suckled at his nipples.

Pira wailed, whacking very lightly at Tonino's head, over-stimulated and giggling. "You will! You are marrying me, you will look better than I do!"

"No way," Tonino rested his head on Aziraphale's shoulder and apparently wasn't intending to move any time soon. "I'm marrying you, everyone should envy me... I envy myself, to be honest. Fuck... You're mine!" He sounded surprised and puzzled. "You're mine, till death do us part and I want to see him try... You're mine, angel. Mine."

"I am. I am, all yours. You... you marked your claim most assuredly." Pira squeezed again, and then whimpered once more. "You're there, inside of me."

"Shouldn't I be?"

"TONINO! My insides are soaked through with you... of COURSE you should be!"

"Oh... Do you want me to remove myself? Your gut is so... Snuggly. Can I stay a while longer?"

"Don't you dare. If I may not get this for a million more years, let it be this way for as long as possible... you feel so damnably good inside of me."

"Lovely... Wonderful, actually. I think I'm falling asleep... Gonna drool all over you... Your valet will be scandalised... Love you, Aziraphale."

"My valet can piss off," Aziraphale said, intelligently, and tugged covers up and over them. It was only a blanket, but it was the best he had. He didn't care. Tonino was warm, and in his arms, and he would sleep better on a poker with him, than in the softest bed without.

"You love me..." Tonino muttered sleepily. "You love me, you missed me... Angel, love, I'll wear anything for you. Could wear nothing, actually, if you wish so. Love you... Love you..."

"That's not necessary. Your delicious rump is just for me." Pira kissed his brow, and snuggled him deeper. "Sleep, my love. Sleep in my embrace, I will hold you safe, and never, ever let go."

"In your embrace..." Tonino replied dreamily. "I love you, I love you, I love you... So, so much... Never leave me. I'll never leave you..."

***

_ From Tonino's diary _

June 18, 18th year of Franz Joseph N

He's mine.

He's mine by law, by tradition, by costume. 

He's mine.

He's mine.

I promised him to be his, and I will be. Damn my body, damn my desires, I want him to have me, to possess me. 

My husband. My one and only.

I saw him over heads and crowds.

I heard him over heads and crowds.

I spoke with him, and his voice, kind eyes, soft gestures, all of it, enthralled me ever since.

There are no words to describe what he is to me.

My breath, my flesh, my everything. Can't live without him.

I was a fool about the music, though. I demeaned his music, thought of it as an instrument for change and progress, and in a way it is. The emperor is indeed a much better monarch, but through Pira's music he became a better man, while everything concerning politics is my demonic influence, as Pira puts it. I was so eager to see the things I didn't succeed to do in Florence done here, that I managed to miss the most important part - I am a better man through Pira's music. This hedonist, this dear glutton of mine weaves his joy and his doubts into such magnificent sounds that make one feel one's body, one's essence. 

As for me, I only want to take care of him and to be better for him, to be deserving of this honour, this privilege to pass through life by his side. 

There will be music, all the time, everywhere, the very air between us, however little there might be when we make love. 

Since I don't feel the same pull, I can concentrate on his pleasure, his delight, and when he is delighted I'm warm and alive. 

  
  


Bea is pregnant, as they informed me. They are trying to take Florence back, which they will of course. There isn't any real war so far, and I do hope Bea is wise enough to avoid it, but there's no place in their life for a child now, so they asked us to raise their heir. 

  
  
  


February 20, 19th year of Franz Joseph N

His name is Adam. He's two weeks old. Bea continued with their plan to secure the duchy for their boy.

Aziraphale is cooing over him, and I'm cooing over Aziraphale.

Welcome to our family, Adam Pellegrini, Duke of Florence.

  
  


August 30, 21st year of Franz Joseph N

The emperor's son is a miserable fuck. Seeing Adam's happiness, the emperor wants us to foster Warlock, his grandson.

Adam and Warlock get along famously as friends, but I have my doubts about how well it will go once they are brothers in everything but name.

  
  


***

_ From Pira's journal _

June 18, 18th year of Franz Joseph N

I AM NOT GOING TO WRITE ANYTHING ELSE OTHER THAN WE BOTH SAID ‘I DO’ AND NOW I AM GOING TO GO RAVISH MY HUSBAND.

HUSBAND.

I CAN SAY THAT.

Mumsie even turned up! 

Sorry, HUSBAND.

  
  


June 19, 18th year of Franz Joseph N

I would apologise to you, but you are a journal, and also you should know by now that when it comes to my most beloved, my darling, my muse, my inspiration, my heart, my all - he! Oh… how can I say anything but that I love him!

We are wed. We are husbands. Spouses. Married. We are legally together, doubled, entwined, ensconced… but saying the same thing over and over does not convey it more than I already have. 

It was beautiful. I cried. I cried rather a lot, and I was glad that all I had done was rouge, for if I’d done any more I would have looked like a clown. I cried and was a ridiculous mess, but he cried too, and I think even Gabriel was sniffling. 

Gabriel did start the ceremony, he said nice things and he even sounded like he truly meant it. Which was - yes, I cried at that again. 

He said things about love, and life, and the world, and I know it was sweet but unless he has written it down, there is no way I will ever know what it was he did say. It was just too much, too much emotion, too much beauty. As if it was even possible! But it was.

It was.

Then Mumsie walked up, and said she would continue, and - did you guess that I wept? I think at this point I was pouring the Danube down my nose. She said even more beautiful things, and if the Almighty themself wasn’t moved by it, I no longer believe in them.

You might think I spent the entire day in tears, but that’s only half the story.

It began with the night before, where we couldn’t quite bring ourselves to sleep in different rooms, but we had two beds brought in and I kept reaching over to hold his hand. I’m pretty sure he considered calling it off, because I couldn’t sleep, and I kept wriggling and talking. 

We weren’t going to be intimate. At one point he did offer, and I bit my pillow and shook my head because I wanted the wedding night to be special. So we got up and played and everyone in the household cursed our names, I’m sure, as we wore ourselves out.

We did not sleep in the two beds, after all. He climbed in with me, and I held him, and it helped settle me to smell his hair and feel his fingers. At least we tried!

His outfit was, if I say so, a triumph. Due to his penchant for darker tones, I went for the magpie look. Everything was darkly iridescent, with the slightest sheens of reds, purples, plums. Very fine embroidery of the deepest red that wasn’t black, chasing images over the jacket. 

The red cravat was the boldest thing, if we talk purely of colour. And the whole ensemble gave a very nice view of his ass to everyone attending the ceremony, and to me for the rest of the day. When I wasn’t clutching his arm or gazing into his eyes, that is. 

His ass is also connected (very loosely) to those gorgeously long legs of his. Which - 

I promised myself I would not devolve into pornography, erotica, or just plain jerking off over the page. So I must stop.

My own outfit was in shades of creams, kissed chantilly, tiny accents of ripe damsons to accentuate the colours in his. There was such delicate lace and such fine damask and jacquard and silks… admittedly I would have married him in a barn and asked him to bugger me over a hay bale, but this meant everyone got to see how very, very much in love we are. And to celebrate with us. 

I truly did feel like everyone was happy for us. The emperor - I did him a disservice by thinking he would intrude upon us. It was simply my fear, and nothing of his own making. He is a sentimental old fool, it seems, and I do hope he finds someone who makes him feel like my Tonino does. 

I… do not… regret the time I spent before I met my beloved. It was pleasant. It did not mean anything, truly, on the emotional side, so I do not feel I was unfaithful. I enjoyed the company of many people, and possibly I learned from them. And if those lessons helped me be a better husband in any way… well. We cannot change the past, and only take what we can from it. 

I do not miss it. Or - no. I remember it was pleasant. But I do not have regret for no longer having it. And I can still admire the form of others, but in doing so I compare them against him. And I may… occasionally… flirt. But that’s simply because it is how I like to speak to people. They know I will not be unfaithful.

I hope Tonino knows. Sometimes it makes him a little jealous, but he acts on it in such fun ways that it is difficult to feel fully remorseful. 

The building was decked out so nicely. All the flowers bloomed, all the light filtered through the stained glass, all the walls echoed with the choral voices and the deeper voice of the organ. I bit the inside of my cheek, and he saw me do it, and stroked my face and I became a liquid myself. 

It was all just… wonderful.

I know he is less interested in the public side of things, unless he is performing, but I do believe he enjoyed it in some way of his own. Some way of being recognised, of - of fitting in? He seems happier in public than he did before. He didn’t even turn green when we were invited to dine with several people, once things settle, of course. 

I doubt he will ever be entirely at home with it, but, if it means I have to decline some invitations and spend time with only him? Not exactly a hard price to pay. 

The food was amazing. I gave the chef the theme of a concerto, and thus was everything arranged and designed. The menu was written as a score, and we had little pastry instruments and small morsels arranged on staves. Tonino, of course, was playing the food in his head, which was my plan all along. 

The cake was also great. It was white chocolate outside, and a rich, dark inside. Fruits in the base layer, creams in the upper ones. I may have had them put the little icing Pira’s hand on the little icing Tonino’s rump. Tiny chocolate pears scored with notes climbed up the walls. 

After, there was music. We both had to play, alone and together, and we danced to our own choice of song. Mostly, we watched others dance, and held hands under the table. I have never had a problem with public affection, but this act felt private and essential. 

When we were nearly done, Tonino’s head of the family and sibling came to speak to us. As we joined our names, as well as our families, I suppose they are my sibling, too, now. 

Bea did not wish to talk too much about politics on our day, simply making minor reassurance of the progress and expressing gratitude for our support. But they did tell us that they are expecting a child, and that this is both perfect for the family, and terrible for the child’s early years to be in the middle of such turmoil. 

I am sure you can guess the rest. Tonino and I had recently discussed children, and of course to have one of our own would require compromise and assistance. But here, one of his own blood, needing a home, needing a place to be safe and loved. 

It was as if divinely ordained. On our wedding night, we became blessed with a child. We shall foster them, but raise them as our own. And when they must leave to return to Florence, we will visit them regularly and never lose touch. 

I told Mumsie that we had our own miracle from Heaven. She was amused.

Then I had my way with my new husband. Repeatedly. Noisily. Enthusiastically. 

I have never been happier, nor cried so much, in all my life. 

Husband. It will not get old to say that. Husband. 

  
  


March 1, 19th year of Franz Joseph N

I thought I had met the love of my life, and I did. It turned out that said love of my life came with another.

Adam. Adam! He is the most perfect little creature. He has some of Tonino’s features, enough to know there is blood in common. And he is small, needy, and a delight when he smiles. His little fingers are chubby and sweet. His little nose is soft and his cheeks fat.

I do not love Tonino in any way less, though with the feeding, our nocturnal activities have been a little curtailed for a while. When we do make love, it is full of fever and appreciation.

Adam loves to listen to Tonino sing. I rock him, and my husband sings, and sometimes the three of us dance. 

Every day it seems there is room for more love, and I do not know how I contain it all.

  
  
  


August 30, 21st year of Franz Joseph N

  
  


Had anyone told me I would be a good, settled husband and a responsible (or, mostly responsible) parent, the year before, or two perhaps… I would have laughed in their faces.

But it seems I am. 

The emperor himself asked us to take in Warlock, who is almost exactly Adam’s age. Which is a remarkable show of faith and affection, and I hope has put to bed any resentment that may have finally lingered between our patron and my beloved. 

Adding a sibling like this is not exactly usual, but when have we let ‘usual’ dictate a thing?

I have two arms. I can hold them both, and Tonino can hold me. 

I am going to need to buy them their own instruments, though. They haven’t yet got the dexterity required to not destroy things in their excitement. And we must raise them to appreciate the arts, as much as the sciences, and the political elements which mostly bore me, but which intrigue their other father. They are to rule, one day, after all.

Faustria is happier since Tonino arrived. Tonino is happier. I am happier.

I am considering composing a small set for young voices and minds. If only I could think of a name…

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone. It's been great. Tell your friends and come back later.


	8. De Coda Al Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!

Tonino wasn't excited, but he definitely was anxious. Pira's tender enthusiasm for their wedding night melted Tonino's heart, but all of Pira melted Tonino's heart. 

He wanted to be good, wanted to match with Pira in everything, so he spent the morning talking to himself, and continued that inner dialogue through the wedding. Pira's happy face was an argument in its own right, and so Tonino decided to concentrate on all the expressions of bliss he had witnessed on his husband's face during the time they'd known each other. 

Pira gave the servants a day off, so he could clash Tonino's lips with his own the moment they entered the house.

The wall was the first witness of their impending nuptials, and Pira had his hands up the inside of Tonino's very fine jacket before the echo of the closing door had finished running through the house. More kisses. More. He cried a little more, and then his hands were on his face, his smile wide enough to split his face in twain. "Oh, you beautiful creature, now you truly are all mine."

“Was always yours, angel, but now it's set in stone... Metaphorically..." He tried to relax into the embrace. "I have... A gift for you, angel. In the bedroom, if you don't mind."

"You mean you didn't carve our initials in one of the stones before you had them all moved?" He ran his nose against the other's. "And oh? You must show me…”

"No, I didn't, it would have ruined my system." Tonino took Aziraphale's hand and kissed it. "I wanted tonight to be special, and it will be anyway but I wanted you to... No, I'd better show you. Come." He tugged Pira along.

"You'll have to sneak it in somewhere, now. Somewhere hidden, for our son to later find..." He followed obediently, trying not to trip over his feet in the process.

Tonino didn't answer and didn't turn his head until they entered their bedroom. He stopped and chuckled. "Rose petals? Really, angel?"

The pout could be seen from the Vatican. "It's our wedding night! Did you want me to leave the thorns in?"

"I hoped to have you all myself without any plants involved... But you're my darling and you do what you want." Tonino squeezed Aziraphale's hand. "Undress for me, love, and lie down there, among the rose petals."

“Well, you can always sweep them off in a grandiose gesture, if you're jealous of the botany," he winked, and let his hands take their time undressing. Slow, deliberate gestures, flashing each bit of exposed skin.

Tonino was looking at him fondly, until Aziraphale laid down, which was when Corvoli remembered to undress himself.

He walked up to Aziraphale and crawled over him stopping to give a long tender kiss to Aziraphale's cock. "Promised you a gift, didn't I?" Tonino asked, moving up. He managed the right angle and sucked Aziraphale's tongue into his mouth with a moan.

"You did," he replied. Two hands on his ass, pulling him by the cheeks so their cocks bumped together. He wanted him to be as aroused as he, himself felt. And slowly fucked past his teeth with his tongue, loving the ease of their connection.

"It's there... Move your hands a bit..." Tonino blushed and looked down. "I... I hoped you'd like it... Come, angel, fondle my arse and find your... Gift."

"Your..." He groped the cheeks harder, and startled at the resistance he felt. He moved his fingers to the crease, and found something firm, and... "Tonino... did you?"

Since morning, for you," Tonino kissed Pira tenderly. "Just for you... All open and ready, for you." He kissed him again.

“You..." And then he giggled. "You cheated on me on our wedding day," he claimed, and slapped his cheek playfully. "This is revenge for me using a wooden 'you', isn't it?" He pressed at the edge of the plug, and then twisted it oh so slightly. "Are you ready to see what it's really like? To be mine, as I am yours?"

Tonino's breath hitched and he dropped his head on Aziraphale's shoulder. "Don't be coy, angel... It's... I want to be yours, this is my gift to you. I wouldn't... Wouldn't know what to do..."

"Let me show you." His voice was softer, as he took hold of the plug, and rubbed at his lower back. "Try to relax, and push very gently. Would you like me to kiss it better, before I enter you?"

"You... You'll be too far... Want you... Want you there." Tonino sniffled. "Please, angel... I love you so much."

"Then I'll use my fingers, as you watch my face." He pulled, firmer, and tried to remove the plug. "Work with me, darling. It isn't long now. I love you so, so much."

Corvoli moaned into Aziraphale's shoulder and pushed the plug out. "Fuck..." He whimpered. "Don't leave me, alright? Don't..."

Fingers immediately stroked his pucker, trying to soothe, whispering reassuringly in his ear. The plug was tossed aside, and the nearby oil was over fingers to rub over any twinges. "You are the miracle, you know. You didn't need to do this, but I am so very, very moved that you have." He slicked his cock, then went back to kneading at his buttocks. "Would you like to ride me, or would you like me to lie you down, my dear heart?"

"D-down, angel." Tonino whispered and nipped at Aziraphale's neck. "For you... At least there's one honest virgin in here," he laughed.

"Hmmm, honest? Perhaps." He grabbed a knee, bent it around his waist, and used it to roll him onto his back. He pulled his hips closer, and lifted him up against his thighs. "Tell me, did you think of me when you pushed it in? How did you imagine this?"

"I wanted to give you something I haven't given you yet. And of whom else would I think? I thought of your smile to relax and push it in," Tonino leaned up to kiss Aziraphale. "I thought of your blissed out face when I pushed it deeper. I thought of how happy I can make you... And I tried not to think how my arse can make you happy, and I succeeded. I forbade myself to think about anything else."

"You truly are a miracle. You are." He put his hands under his back, getting him bent just so, and thrust shallowly. "Look at me. Look into my eyes. See how truly adored you are. How I am the luckiest man alive." He took his cock in one hand, holding it at his hole, pressing steadily at the ring of tight muscle. Then, carefully, slowly, but surely he thrust the first inch inside. His teeth bit his lip as he fought with his urge to go deeper too fast. "Tonino!"

"Here, angel," Tonino smiled. "I'm here, all yours. You can push deeper, love, it's alright."

“Tell me - tell me if you n-need me to stop," he begged, even as he put one hand on his waist, and then fell forwards to a kneel. His fingers curling through the spill of red hair, then twisting around his knuckles and very lightly tugging. "You feel so good, so slick, so tight... does it hurt you, my love? Does it feel good?"

"Hurts a bit. Feels... I feel you, so close to me, so impossibly close... I might come to like it... Fuck, angel. Never knew you could be so close to me."

“Softer? Slower?" He moved to stroke over his flank, his belly, running fingers up his shaft. "Can you feel my heart beating inside of you? Can you see why I loved to feel you come inside of me?"

Tonino looked dazed. He closed his eyes and smiled blissfully, suddenly so much younger and calmer than usually. "I want you, slow and soft, if you can... I feel so warm, angel... Like... Like a tide rising through me. And..." He shifted his shoulders as if trying to feel them better. "And it's you, mine. Mine..." His face was glowing with bliss and he pushed up to press his cheek against Aziraphale's. "Angel... My impossible, my beloved angel..."

"Hold my hand," he asked, indicating the one that curled around his cock, linking their fingers, stroking him in tempo with the slow, lazy motion he set. So warm, so soft and delicate. The way his breathing and movement sent shudders that wracked them both. He could take him like this for hours, and never be too slow. 

He looked.... happy. So very happy. He angled, trying to push deeper, trying to give him the sparks he knew were just beyond... "My husband." It felt so good to say. "I was so, so lost before I found you. And now I will never let you go. Not ever. Wherever you go, I shall be with you, holding your hand."

Tonino giggled and licked Aziraphale's ear. "Look at you..." He laid back. "So... Familiar and known and knowing." He pushed up to meet Aziraphale's movements. "I love you so very much, angel, you were never lost. You were just patiently waiting... And so was I."

"You could have turned up sooner." He was only teasing, though, as he dragged his hand more firmly down, and chased the jumps and twitches he knew were just below the surface. The grinding was encouraging him, and he was less worried about hurting him now. He was relaxed, and enjoying it, and he wasn't going to rip him if he was enjoying it. "I knew this arse was made for fucking. How do you manage, with such long legs and such a tiny butt?"

Tonino smirked. 

Before Pira could even understand what was happening he was flipped over onto his back and Tonino was straddling him. He swayed his hips experimentally. "You tease..." Tonino growled and pressed Aziraphale's wrists into the pillows. "This is how I manage. Like it?" He bit Aziraphale's collarbone.

The guttural sound of utter, wild abandon said yes, yes he did. He squirmed, but didn't fight it, his jaw snapping as his eyes briefly rolled up. "Oh! Oh, just like that! Oh, oh, you perfect devil! Don't stop! Fuck, fuck, but that - I - oh!"

"I won't fuck that, whatever that is." He swayed again, rose on his knees a bit and slowly lowered on Aziraphale's thighs. "So soft, angel... So... How should I go?"

"However you please!" He had hold of his hips, his hair plastering to his face as the sheen rose in his cheeks. "Oh - soft, slow, hard - just let me feel you! Chase what feels good, and I will - I will feel the way your body urges mine - oh, Tonino... just please, let me end inside of you and stay there until you can't bear it any more... I will give you whatever you want, however you want!"

"What I want..." Tonino teasingly kissed Aziraphale's chin. "I want to ride you hard and fast until you come. Then I'm going to wait for you to get hard again and we'll do it again. At some point I want to be kissed tenderly on the lips. Game?"

“You will KILL me!" The irony of him saying this was not lost on him. "But yes, oh yes! I want it, I want it all! I want to feel you, I want to hold you down and show your body that it loves me as much as you do... that it can find as much joy..."

“Shut it, love." Tonino began riding him slowly, picking up the pace with each movement. His long back was bent at an impossible angle so that he could rest his hand on Aziraphale's cheek. "Good for you, love?" He asked, his face worried and loving.

"Oh MY YES." He grabbed a hold of that small ass, and tried to help slam him down, watching with rabid hunger at the cock bouncing between them both. "Yes! Yes! Oh, oh, will you come with me? Will you?"

"Help me," Tonino asked tenderly and pulled Aziraphale's unoccupied hand to his dick. "Help me." He covered Pira's hand with his own. "Come with me, angel. I'll catch you..."

Pira touched him fervently, nodding, too far gone to talk. He was nearly there, so nearly there, and he stroked as firmly as he could. His husband, buggering himself on his cock, hard and wanting and beautiful and wild and - with a cry of his name, he let his release rush out, filling him, spilling into his hole, coating them both with his emissions.

"Oh dearest one," whispered Tonino leaning forward to kiss Aziraphale's bliss off his gaping mouth. "Love you, everything I am, is yours, angel. Shhh..." He caressed Pira's shoulder as he began to thrash as the last waves of his climax passed through him. "Shhh, angel, I'm here, my dearest one. I'm here..." More small soothing kisses down Aziraphale's temples and neck and lips. "Breathe, angel... We're together."

Aziraphale pulled him down, cuddling him to his chest, whimpering at the pulsing, throbbing, aching in his groin. He was still buried inside of his lover, and his legs wrapped around him as much as his arms did. He nuzzled and kissed and whimpered, hiding giggles in his neck. "Oh, oh, thank you... I most definitely died... don't you dare leave my embrace."

"I wouldn't leave your embrace. I still count on our seed working as glue and sticking us together... For a bit... I know I shouldn't." Tonino held Pira tightly. "For this... This I truly loved, for both of us."

"Hearing you say that makes me happier than I can ever say. Truly." He nipped at his ear, and then pushed his fingers into his hair, arms around his shoulders. "And we can do this, any time you desire. And any time you don't, I will simply hold you tighter than you've ever been held before."

**Author's Note:**

> Art by Davechicken
> 
>   
> 
> 
> Art by the incredibly wonderful [sani-86](https://sani-86.tumblr.com/).


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